#the show you could literally not watch without the screen bleeding trying to make up what was going on at the max brightness

[yuwhala]

I just had a flash-back about that "Eyewitness" (US version) show. Was the plot really about two dumbfucks that were like "we can't say we witnessed a crime otherwise people will KNOW we were homosexually vibing" (??????) Instead of I don't know, finding any reasonable excuse why they might have ended up in a cabin together (there were plenty) ? What a fever dream.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Ben Drowned

You had promised, sworn on your very life, that you wouldn’t laugh. It was an oath. One to be taken very seriously.

“Using your hand to muffle the sound still counts as laughing.”

Part of you felt really bad but that made you snicker even harder. Your best friend, at the very least, did appear extremely shaken about the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed. Dark bags had formed beneath her eyes and her attention seemed unable to stray from the Nintendo 64 that sat between you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But you have to understand how this sounds. You’re telling me that you’re being haunted by a literal video game.”

She pulled her legs to her chest. The amount of weight that she had lost recently couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychiatrist?” you offered. “Or perhaps selling this game?”

“He would kill me.”

You picked up the Nintendo 64 and stared at the main menu of the game. It looked pretty normal to you. You fiddled around with the settings to turn the music down. “I really think that talking to somebody about this would help.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “I want to stop playing. I want to speak to people but all that he wants is for me to continue trying to beat the game. There’s no way to win! The entire thing is rigged!”

“Have you looked up a guide?”

She groaned. “Nobody’s going to listen to me.”

An awkward silence fell over the room and you shifted around in your seat before offering some coffee. She accepted but the kettle had barely been boiling for a few seconds when her phone chimed happily.

“Oh look, he wants to play now,” she muttered. She thrust the device to you. “Take a look for yourself.”

The notification had come through an app called CleverBot. It was a very simple ‘hi’ message that didn’t really seem all too haunting. You opened it up and clicked around the app for a little. “Looks like just a chatroom,” you said. “Why’d you download this?”

“I didn’t. I just woke up the one day and it was on my phone.”

You closed the app and returned to the home screen. It immediately reopened and the same message popped up again. An identical thing happened the second time. And then again.

“This looks like a virus,” you said. “It’s probably best to uninstall.”

Clicking on the button made the icon disappear for a short while but it was quick to reappear. This time, when the chatroom opened itself, the message had changed to simply say ‘rude’.

You pursed your lips. That was suspicious enough for you to understand her potential worries. “I don’t think that it’s haunted but you should probably take it to a professional to have it wiped or something. And maybe consider less porn in the future?”

Your joke fell flat but it died when the chatbot began typing. Not too long after, another message had come through.

‘I don’t hang out in such places.’

“Can…” you trailed off. “No, there’s no way that they’ve hacked the microphone, right?”

‘Don’t need to hack in to hear what you’re saying.’

The colour drained from your face and you quickly glanced towards your friend. She didn’t seem panicked, even when you showed her the message. If anything, her expression was resigned as though this was a regular occurrence.

You didn’t get too much time to respond when a horrible static sound came through her phone. The screen began flashing and blurry images raced across it. A distorted version of the Majora’s Mask theme song started playing. It felt like your ears were bleeding. Scared, you threw the phone to the floor and, with a shattering crack, everything stopped.

For a while, you stared at it but then she said, “He’s going to be pissed with that.”

There was a chime from somewhere on your right. Your own phone’s screen lit up. Nervously, you reached over to check on it.

A single notification stood there, from an app called CleverBot.

‘You Shouldn’t Have Done That.”

Bloody Painter

The park was busy this time of day and filled with an awaiting audience – whether they were interested in watching the performance or not. Many seemed to appreciate it though, taking the flyers handed out by your group.

It was nearing midday when you ran out of pamphlets. You stretched and pushed your hair away from your face, relishing in the feeling of sun against skin.

Your gaze drifted across the park’s patrons before settling on one that you had been watching since the beginning of your performance. He didn’t look up much. A sketchpad sat on his lap and tousled brown hair hung over his face. You hadn’t caught his attention once but he had certainly kept yours.

“Can you hand me another lot of flyers?” you asked one of the other girls with her.

She handed them over and you put on your best grin before making your way to the tree he was sitting under.

He looked up when your shadow fell over his sketchbook. His work was considerably abstract and nothing that you could identify with ease. There weren’t too many colors though.

“Hello!” you greeted cheerily. “I don’t mean to bother but what did you think of the show?”

He blinked up at you. “I didn’t see it.”

The man was a master of deadpan but you didn’t allow your smile to drop. You lowered the flyer and sighed, “That’s a shame. It’s so rare that we have attractive people at our shows… you should consider coming to our actual performances sometime. Everybody loves musicals.”

He didn’t even react to the compliment. No smirk or even a blush. It was as though you hadn’t spoken one word.

“I’ve seen your face before,” he said. “You do this kind of thing quite often. Don’t you get tired of people staring at you?”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t be in this line of business if I was too self-conscious. When they stare for too long, I like to imagine that it’s because I’m the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen.” Running your fingers through your hair, you offered him your most dazzling smile. “And if you remember me, that’s a certain compliment.”

“You can take it whatever way you want but it doesn’t mean anything.”

It was tempting to give up. Flirting with cute boys was only entertaining when they responded with… something. This boy just stared.

“So you’re an artist, right? You’d have a good point of view on whether or not I’m actually pretty.”

“My opinions on people are rarely accurate.”

His response made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something of a warning twisted in your stomach. A light had lit behind his eyes but it didn’t seem like something you wanted to tie yourself to.

It appeared it was time to give up your pursuit. “Well, I really should get going. Perhaps I’ll see you at the next performance.”

His eyes drifted to the pamphlet that you held. “Were you planning on giving me that?”

“Offering it but you don’t have to –“

“I’ll take it,” he said, putting down his pencil and holding out his hand. “Your show wasn’t too entertaining but I enjoyed watching the performance you just put on. Rather like a peacock strutting its feathers.”

So he wasn’t oblivious then… just teasing. You had no idea if it showed his genuine interest or if he was merely taunting now.

With a slight scowl, you passed it over. He tucked it into his sketchbook and then closed it, standing up. He was scrawnier than you had anticipated but he still had a considerable height – holding at least a few inches over you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He left without another word. You rolled your eyes and made a point to ignore any thoughts about him for the rest of the day. Perhaps you shouldn’t have given him your information… after all, that flyer had your full name and everything.

And you knew absolutely nothing about him.

Candy Pop

Hospitals were the worst places in the world.

They smelled too clean and looked too false. You generally avoided them as much as possible unless it was absolutely necessary. When a close family member found themselves locked within the walls, unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to stay away.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked into the room. The sterilized smell burnt you.

Most of it was what you had expected but the young, child-like scream made you jump and nearly drop every gift you were holding.

Your aunt jumped up from her chair beside the hospital bed. “What’s wrong?!” she asked, fussing over your cousin.

She was barely over eleven and had badly injured her leg during a biking competition. Your mom had told you that everybody in the family was going to visit her, encouraging you to go together in order to drop off some gifts.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl said quickly. “I don’t like balloons and I thought… it doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

You moved them behind you a little, trying to block her line of sight. “No, no, I should have asked first. You could have been allergic to latex or something and then I’d be feeling really bad about it.”

“She’s been particularly on edge thanks to these awful nightmares,” your aunt explained.

“Nightmares?” you asked.

The little girl seemed pale at its mention, pulling her blanket up to her nose and watching everybody wearily. “They’re just bad dreams,” she said. “You said that they couldn’t hurt me.”

Her mother hurriedly rubbed her shoulder and offered a warm smile. “They definitely can’t,” she reassured.

“Are they about the fall?” you asked.

“Sometimes.”

You settled down in one of the chairs as your own mother began speaking to her sister. They were able to discuss everything from the colour of grass to what they thought would be the best country to live in. You weren’t particularly interested in what they were saying and, after a while of trying to chirp in, you just let the lack of sleep catch up to you.

Your dreams came to you quickly, faster than usual and sharp in an uncomfortable sort of way.

You found yourself standing in a large field. The sky was grey and the grass tall enough to reach your knees. Everything felt bright. It hurt your eyes to stare at anything for too long.

Normally, dreams didn’t feel as such, but you were certain that this was one. There was no purpose to where you were. No inclination to walk in a specific direction or try to understand what was happening.

Just confusion.

You took a step forward and a soft wind wrapped around you. It brushed through the grass, dancing around the trees. Something was watching.

You turned and two, glowing lights floated above the ground.

Slowly, mist gathered around the two spots. As you stepped back, it began to solidify – quickly forming a more recognisable shape. The figure tilted its head to the side and a slight jingling sound filled the air. It stepped forward then and the glow faded from its eyes, revealing just what stood before you.

He was a jester, though certainly more modern than the old king’s versions. Blue hair hung around his shoulders and his entire outfit jingled with hundreds of bells. A smile graced his face and he stepped forward.

You moved away.

His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The mist appeared again and he vanished into it.

You looked around frantically. He was gone. The wind picked up unexpectedly, howling in your ears. You raised your hands to shield your face and something grabbed your wrist. Before you could turn to see, you hurdled away from the meadow and awoke spluttering for air.

“Are you alright?” your aunt asked.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw a blue jester but, when you turned to look, he was gone. “Yeah,” you said, rubbing your chest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Your made eye contact with your cousin and swallowed thickly. The look on her face said it all.

Clockwork

Every night, without fail, you saw her sitting there when you arrived home from work.

She always wore the same thing and, initially, you had thought that she would play on her phone for hours at a time. It didn’t appear that she had a phone, however, as you came to realise. Whatever she was holding was circular and fit perfectly within the palm of her hand.

You mentioned it to the building manager the second time she was there until like two in the morning. He had said that they thought she was homeless but, as far as they could tell, she wasn’t dangerous. You reassured him that your worries weren’t about her presence due to any perceived problem but he had just nodded.

She never moved while she was waiting. Not even to adjust her weight or brush the hair from her face.

A few of your neighbours used the very eloquent reasoning that she was merely crazy.

Occasionally, you heard children from the area parroting their parents. Rumours abound that she was a ghost who would attack anybody if they spoke to her. You scoffed each time it was said but many believed the stories.

You were arriving home late one night when you spotted her sitting in the usual spot. It was strange for you to feel anything beyond exhaustion on the nights when hospital jobs ran too long but this time, a strange anticipation settled itself in your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Are you okay?”

Her hair was dirty and her coat looked as though it hadn’t been washed for years. Now that you were close, you could make out what appeared to be dried blood on her shirt.

“Go away,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“I have medical experience,” you responded. “And I know some good places to stay in the area. I can –“

“Good for you,” she sneered. “Leave me alone. You’re going to make me miss it.”

The object she was holding was an old pocket watch. It looked like something you would find in an antique store and pay insane amounts of money for. Though, it didn’t appear to be working. The clock hands sat at a set time and didn’t move in the slightest.

“I want to help you if that’s okay,” you said.

She forced out a laugh that sounded as though it physically pained her. “You want to help me?!” she cackled, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Isn’t that sweet.”

You stumbled away from her and clasped a hand over your mouth. Her face…

Her mouth was torn to pieces, jagged cuts that ripped through the skin there and had been crudely stitched back together. But that wasn’t the worst. No, the worst part of it was her left eye that had a pocket watch shoved into the socket and forcefully stitched there. The injury flared red with infection and pain.

“What’s wrong little doctor?!” she cawed. “No longer feeling like saving the poor girl you found on the side of the road?”

You steeled your resolve and straightened. “I’m still willing to offer help if you need it,” you said in your strongest voice. “That injury is severe and needs attending to if you want to save the eye.”

The eye was definitely gone and she knew it as well, scoffing at your offer. “No chance of that. Why do you people like pretending that you care?”

“I do care.”

She responded with a mocking expression and stood unexpectedly. “Sure you do.” She tapped the front of the pocket watch with her nail. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work. I nearly missed it thanks to your nagging. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”

And she marched off into the night.

Dark Link

The vase that you were holding was beautifully polished and almost brand new. As you lifted it, something rattled around within.

“Why are you selling this for such a low price?” you asked.

The woman was middle-aged with a falsely high voice and bright, darting eyes. “It was a gift,” she said. “But I decided against keeping it. I wasn’t sure how low the price should be but it’s not like I’m losing any money.”

You decided against buying it, thanking her and walking away quickly. While you were looking through a few pieces of jewelry, your arm was grabbed and a small object pushed into your chest.

“Here you go!” you friend chimed. “Consider it to be a late birthday present!”

You took the game cartridge and examined it closely. “Zelda, again?” you asked. “I’ve already tell you that –“

“Yes, yes, I know that they’re not your thing but if you haven’t tried all the games then how are you meant to know there isn’t just one that you like?”

Sighing, you took the game and dropped it into your purse. It was dirty and definitely well used. A bit of black paint flaked off on your fingers.

Another game for you to keep in your cupboard and not look at again until months later when you were asked about your opinion on it. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have the console you needed and the simple answer of ‘just buy one for cheap’ wasn’t always available.

But in the coming weeks, you quickly realised that this wasn’t just another game.

At first, the things that went wrong were too minor to even pay attention to. Electronics started breaking frequently until the point where you had replaced your stereo twice in a week and no longer had a television. After that, you started feeling sickly and uncomfortable whenever you were in the house. A feeling of imposing nature settled upon your shoulders.

You spent more time away from home, staying away for as long as you could. When you tried to dogsit for your brother, the pup wouldn’t even enter the house.

It was late at night when you woke up in a cold sweat. Nausea coiled in your stomach and your heart was beating at the speed of light.

At first, you had no idea what had woken you.

And then you heard the rattling.

It was coming from the next room over. As though somebody had taken hold of your desk and was shaking it as roughly as they could.

You scrambled for your phone but it wasn’t there. It was sitting in your office.

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped from your bed. Your head felt fuzzy, as though you weren’t able to wake up properly. Every step was slow and lethargic.

Stumbling toward the door, you gingerly grabbed the handle. As you opened it, your mind caught up with your body and you remembered that you shouldn’t just burst in on a potential invader.

But it was too late.

The person, for it had to be a person, stood in the middle of the room. Its body was so dark that it blended in with the shadows surrounding it. Two bright red eyes shone, illuminating enough that it showed some of the creatures ashen features. It had sharp features that were definitely human. Though as you stared at it, you knew that it was anything but.

It smiled and began turning into small squares, pixelating into the air and disappearing into something behind it.

You flicked on the light as fast as you could but it was gone. Sitting in the middle of the desk, the black cartridge seemed to emit its own darkness.

Dr. Smiley

The building was beyond restoration, crumbling and derelict. You were sure that it hadn’t been occupied for at least a decade. Perhaps even longer.

For months now, you had been going through the motions to have everything approved and organised. You had gotten clearance, hired the workers, discussed things with any neighbours, and even paid extra for the best machinery to get everything done quicker.

And now they were refusing to do anything.

“I’m sorry, and I will compensate for the time wasted, but my men are saying no,” the on-site manager said. “I know you’re not from these parts but we’ve always known there’s something wrong with this building. Rumours and superstitions abound and I wouldn’t blame my men for not wanting to anger a ghost.”

“They’ll be pissing off something far worse than a ‘ghost’ if they continue refusing to even go in there,” you snapped.

He glanced towards his workers and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Once he left, you turned your attention to the house. Why anybody would have wanted a house in this location was beyond you but now that you had inherited it, you could see potential.

Although the entire place was probably crawling with all manners of disgusting flora.

Perhaps you could use that to get the health counsel to do the job for you.

They will still talking and you could see the weariness on their faces. Sighing, you stalked your way to the front door and pushed it open with one hand. It creaked with the effort.

You stood with your hands out towards the men. “I’m going to walk this entire house!” you called. “And if your ghost doesn’t accost me while I’m there, then I’m going to be expecting you to all get on with it, alright?”

Nothing immediately jumped at you when you entered. The door struggled to open and it swung shut on its own accord. If that was the haunting that they were talking about…

A roach skittered along the floor in front of you, darting under a derelict sofa stained with an unknown substance. Several of the windows had been broken so it wasn’t surprising to find that graffiti and markers had been used to etch various names into the walls.

You walked through a destroyed kitchen, passed a bedroom with a smashed crib, and even kicked open a door that led to a filthy storage room.

No ghost jumped out at you.

Problems started presenting themselves when you walked down one of the hallways and pushed open a bedroom door. The entire room felt set apart from the rest of the place with almost-new curtains that had been drawn shut. Blankets covered the bed, dirty but still there. You immediately thought somebody may be squatting there but your concerns changed when you noticed the wall.

Black mold. It crawled its way up the side, covering most of what had once been white wallpaper. You brought one hand up to shield your mouth and stepped out, slamming the door closed.

If there was an infestation then you had to get the health department immediately. This was –

Your thoughts were interrupted by something grabbing you. Panic filled your mind as a sharp weapon was pressed against your throat.

“Well now, I just know that you don’t have an appointment,” a voice said close to your ear. “I don’t like trespassers.”

Thinking on instinct, you threw your head backwards as hard as you could. There was a satisfying impact followed by a loud yelp of pain. The weapon around your throat moved away so you kicked the guy in the shin and bolted for it.

The house felt bigger while you were running but nobody came after you. You didn’t hear any footsteps or other sounds of a chase.

Bursting through the front door, you winced at the bright light. The house hadn’t seemed nearly that dark until compared to the outside.

You collided with one of the workers in your rush and nearly knocked everybody to the ground.

“What’s happened?”

“It was that ghost, I’m telling you.”

“We warned her, boss.”

You cleared your throat and straightened up, making eye contact with each man individually. “There is no ghost,” you said. “Only a squatter who I shall deal with using police force if needed. However, I do believe any construction will have to wait because I saw an excessive spread of black mold within the house.”

They all spoke amongst themselves, discussing options. You glanced back to the house and allowed your attention to find its way to the bedroom window. Though fleeting, a masked face peered out at you from within.

Eyeless Jack

In many ways, what happened that night was your boss’ fault.

Having just finished working a double shift that ended at almost 1 in the morning, you were exhausted upon returning home. You walked past the neighbouring apartment with only one thought on your mind – sleep.

It was then that you heard a thump coming from within the house, followed shortly by a muffled scream.

Tired, you had to pause to register what was happening and, by the time your brain caught up, your heart was in full-on panic mode. You slowly reached into your pocket and dialed the emergency number as slowly as you dared, whispering into the phone and being reassured that a police presence would be arriving shortly.

Your neighbour was a young man though, just out of rehab and beginning to make his way through life. The longer you stood and waited for the police, the guiltier you felt.

So you reached into the pot plant and pulled out his spare key. After a short while of building yourself up, you unlocked the door and crept inside.

It was dark with the outside world shrouded via heavy curtains. You could barely make your way through the unfamiliar apartment and you didn’t dare turn on the light. Damn, you were extremely tired.

Part of your brain suggested that you had imagined the whole thing. It was a byproduct of a sleep-addled mind or something. That would be embarrassing to explain to the police and to your neighbour. Would you get charged for breaking and entering or could you blame it on your tiredness?

Your doubts didn’t get much further than that because somebody grabbed you from within the room.

A horrible iron-filled scent attacked your senses as you took in the bedroom. It looked like your neighbour was tied to the bed though he wasn’t moving. Somebody stood behind you, their breathing heavy and their grip strong.

They pushed your wrist closer to your back, preventing you from wriggling free of their grip. A blade, small and yet sharp, pressed against the side of your throat.

“Trying to play the hero, are we?” snarled a voice. “Have you called the cops?”

The blade pressed against your skin and you quickly spat out a yes.

“Probably right before you came in, if not earlier… I’d have enough time to kill you but then you’d be an absolute waste. Nowhere to stash a body around here and they’d comb the entire area if you were missing…”

“I didn’t mean –“

You were shoved forward before you had a chance to react. In the dark, you couldn’t make anything out and you hit the wall unexpectedly. Now, far enough away, you turned and tried to make out the face of your assailant. He melded in with the shadows and you ran your fingers along the wall until you found a light switch.

The lights flickered on and you gasped.

He wore a dark blue mask, a black ooze dripping from the eye sockets and onto his hoodie. There was no reaction to the lights. Not even a blink.

“Don’t you want to beg for your life?” he asked. “The other one pleaded nearly constantly until I shut him up.”

“You killed him…”

“He isn’t dead, just unconscious,” the man scoffed. “I try to avoid killing them, if I’m able to.”

“The police will be here soon,” you warned.

“Oh I know. That’s the only reason that I’m leaving this very minute.” He made his way over to the window, never turning to stop facing you. The bedroom window slipped open without a sound and he began climbing out. “I’d keep my doors locked if I was you. Plenty of unsavory characters live in these parts.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Glitchy Red

Your younger cousin squealed excitedly, holding the game to her chest in joy. “I love it so much!” she said. “I can’t believe I used to think Pokémon was for babies. At first when the music randomly cut out, I did think it was super weird but I’ve gotten used to it now.”

“I don’t think it’s meant to do that,” you chuckled. “But cheap versions, you know?”

It was good to see that your last-minute gift hadn’t gone to waste. You had been worried that the present’s fun would be lost on your video game-hating cousin but she had actually decided to give the game a shot. Now you had somebody in the family to speak to which was extraordinarily exciting.

“What are you meant to say to Red when he asks you whether or not he’s a joke?” she aske unexpectedly. “I know that if you say no, he goes away, and I’ve been too scared to try the other option.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually remember that part of the game.”

“Really? But it happens so often.”

When she realised that you really hadn’t encountered anything like that in the game before, she told you to wait a minute and came back with her game.

“There was one around here,” she said, loading in. “Just give me a second and I’ll find it.”

You stayed much later than you had originally intended to that night. The two of you played through a lot of the game, waiting for the moment when Red would break the fourth wall and demand to know about your opinions on him.

It never came.

The game ran incredibly smoothly. It was quite odd. There weren’t any hiccups along the way nor horror-style glitches. The music didn’t even cut off which was apparently rare accourding to your cousin.

After a while, she sighed and handed it to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s not breaking. I’ll go make us some food.”

You continued playing while she was gone, enjoying the memories that came with the game. It was as fun as you remembered until about five minutes after she left. The music just shut off unexpectedly and, no matter what you did, it refused to come back at all. Any other sound effects worked fine though.

“So you’re just programed to break when only one person’s in the room?” you joked.

Perhaps that was a bad choice.

Unexpectedly, a loud static erupted from the console, so ear-aching that it felt like your ears began to bleed. The game took on a horrible red tint and Red appeared on the screen, a dialogue box appearing beneath his blackened form.

AM I A JOKE TO YOU?

Horrified, you immediately shut down the game and threw the cartridge as far away from you as possible. You raced at full speed into the kitchen, nearly knocking several things over along the way.

“You have got to throw that game,” you wheezed.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“There is something really fucked up with that game…” you said. “That thing with Red is absolutely not meant to happen. It felt like he was staring into my soul. You have to throw it out the moment you can. I will buy you another one but do not keep that.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, seemingly confused but nowhere as shaken as you were.

A faint static came from the living room, sending shivers down your spine.

Hobo Heart

Tears flowed down your face despite your best attempts to remain composed. “I’ve known for a while now,” you managed to say.

Your ex-boyfriend seemed shocked, though not entirely upset about your admission. “How long –“

“Since last week,” you said. “Though I’ve heard it’s been going on for considerably longer.”

He shifted his weight and took a deep breath. You recognised this behavior from the past, already hearing the words you knew were coming. The apologies and the false regret, the promises about not doing it again, and then the eventual guilt-tripping. If you heard the latter, you weren’t sure your resolve would hold.

“Goodbye,” you said firmly.

“Wait!”

You ignored the calls, making your way home at a steady place. A few people offered you concerned looks so you rubbed away the tears and took a few deep breaths.

Several months of your life had been completely wasted. You had put so much time and energy into a person who didn’t care one ounce about you.

Just great.

You turned onto your street and made your way to the house across from your own. The woman who lived there was always busy and she only came home to feed her dog before disappearing again. Thankfully, she trusted you to spend time with Bruno.

Bruno came racing over to the gate and jumped up for head scratches. He was a beautiful Afghan Hound with a dark coat and bright eyes.

“At least I know that you’ll always be by my side,” you said, running his fingers through the dog’s fur.

A tear slipped out and you quickly rubbed it away. You dug around in your bag and took out a couple treats, offering him.

A second bark brought your attention to the street.

Standing there, a small white dog with a scruffy coat stared up at you. It looked friendly enough and, after cautiously checking it out, you crouched down and gave it a treat.

“Hello,” you cooed. You gave the pup a few scratches and smiled. “How are you doing, hm? No collar? But you must have an owner because your coat is all groomed and soft. Did you get out or slip your leash?”

You looked around the streets to see if anybody. Nobody jumped out so you gave the dog another treat and brought it into the garden with Bruno to protect it from cars.

The two barked and played with little issue and you messages friends and family about the events of the day.

It was about half an hour later when the air was starting to get chilly. You stood and the small scruffy dog began barking excitedly. Its tail whipped through the air and it jumped up against the fence. A man wearing a white hoodie was standing down the street. You glanced at the dog, scooped it up and made your way to where he was.

“Excuse me,” you said. “I think that I found your dog.”

He turned to look at you and you startled slightly at his rather unusual face paint. A white skull was painted onto his face, similar to something you would see at a college convention.

He glanced down at the happy dog and sighed. “So that’s where he got to.”

“I’m sorry if you were looking for him. I took him off the street to protect him from any cars or anything.”

“It’s fine. He always shows up eventually,” the guy said. “You can just put him down. He’ll follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Then he turned and started walking away. You hurriedly put the dog down and it immediately bounded after him, falling into step directly beside him. They disappeared around a corner and you returned to your own house.

The day had gotten much warmer suddenly.

[after-witch]

Title: You Would Cry Too (If It Happened to You) [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: You Would Cry Too (If It Happened to You) [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader] [It’s My Party Part 2]

Synopsis: Shigaraki won’t let you go to the bathroom. 

For request for a Part 2 of ‘It’s My Party (I’ll Cry If I Want To’)

Word Count: 2100-ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, graphic descriptions of eating disorder thoughts & eating disorder behavior 

Shigaraki has planted himself firmly in front of the bathroom door, legs crossed, Nintendo Switch in his hand. His back is hunched over and the screen illuminates his face with an artificial glow in the dimly lit bedroom you’d been trapped in for weeks.

You stand awkwardly in front of him, but if he notices your presence, he doesn’t say anything. Finally, you clear your throat and speak up.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t look up at you when he answers, bluntly.

“No.”

You clench your fingers and your toes in an effort to create and release tension, to avoid lashing out. You learned, very quickly, that lashing out only made him lash out, and his man tantrums were something you didn’t want to deal with. At least not right now. Not with your stomach feeling distended and bloated. Not with all the food you’d just shoveled into your mouth. Not with the steady hum of primal thoughts ringing in your head, wanting it out--needing it out, needing it out now.

He’d just left for a while, an hour maybe--he normally refused to leave around meal time (for reasons he shared in explicit detail, to your utter discomfort) but after receiving a dozen missed calls from one of his conspirators, he’d finally answered it and begrudgingly agreed to leave. He said he’d be right back.

You don’t know why you did it. You hadn’t binged and purged since you were kidnapped. The anxiety and fear of what he might to do to you overrode everything else in your system, overrode the need to be full and then empty, rinse, repeat. But it’s been weeks. Maybe more? No heroes are going to save you, that’s what he says, and you believe it. Who would want to look for someone like you, anyway?

And so after he left, the thought crept in. Why not eat? And eat--and eat? You held off for a while, hugging your knees and keeping yourself firmly planted on the mattress; staring right at the mini fridge he’d shoved in the corner of the bedroom.

It was like a switch, when you decided. A switch you are all too familiar with pressing. You calmly got up, opened the fridge, and pulled out all the leftovers (including, you admit, some takeout that was teetering on the edge of still-edible) stuffed inside. Plus a few cans of soda, for good measure. You ate almost all the leftovers, mechanically; it was like riding a bike after avoiding it for the summer, really, old habits hard-wired into your brain from years of use. 

You finished just in time to push the trash into the stray garbage bag you’d convinced him to keep in his room. He showed up before you could get rid of anything in your stomach, took a long, slow look at you, then planted himself in front of the bathroom. Did he know? Or was he just being weird again?

And so, your current predicament: Shigaraki, planted between you and the toilet that you desperately needed.

“Why can’t I go to the bathroom?” You keep your voice neutral, low, slightly annoyed. Nonchalant. You want him to feel like he’s ridiculous for denying you access to the toilet. 

Again, he keeps his eyes glued to the screen.

“You know why. I’m not stupid.”

“I have to pee,” you argue, whining, shifting on one leg as if you’re trying to keep it in.

He shrugs one shoulder up and down. “Piss in a cup. I won’t look.”

You sigh, then. “Fine. I have to… you know…”

He raises an eyebrow without glancing up.

You pretend to be exasperated, you pretend to be embarrassed. “You know. The other thing. Poop,” you whisper, dragging the word out as if he’s dragged it out of you like a terrible secret.

He scratches at his lip with his thumb and you fight back a wince. When he gets too upset, he scratches. He was bleeding like hell the night he’d kidnapped you. It was from, as he told you later while petting your hair--all the while ignoring your trembling--getting upset from watching you throw up in the bathroom.

But what you did in the bathroom sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s business but your own, though you’d been too frightened then (and now) to say so.

He sets the Switch down and you think for a moment that you’ve won. He stands up, and your stomach flips at the thought of victory; you wonder if you’ll even have to try very hard to get everything back up. But instead of moving, he leans back against the door and props his foot on it. His chapped lips are set in a grim line, and he folds his arms across his chest. A mockery of a casual pose.

“You’ll try to puke,” he says, practically spitting out the last word.

You feel your cheeks growing hot. You hate how blunt he is about it.

“Seriously? I just have to go to the bathroom.” The food in your stomach feels impossibly heavy. How much longer will it sit there, undigested, before it makes its way out of your stomach and out of your reach.

“I know you just…” He murmurs, and waves his hand haphazardly towards the garbage, then brings his fingers up and scratches, again, this time a hard line on his neck that is sure to bleed if he digs in one more time. “The bag wasn’t full before.”

You can feel humiliation, tight and fluttering, blooming across your entire body. No one is supposed to know, no one is supposed to see what you do. But what choice did you have, trapped in some villain’s dirty bedroom? But the fact that he knows just how much you ate makes you feel even more disgusting.

“Let me go to the bathroom.” You cross your arms.

“You’re not fat,” he says quickly, awkwardly. He’s staring off to the side, refusing to meet your eyes, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed. “You’re really… pretty.” He murmurs, low, almost reverential--and you swear you can see pink on his cheeks. You wouldn’t know how to process “a highly dangerous villain calling you pretty” if you wanted to, so you don’t bother.

“It’s not about weight,” you instantly whisper, throat tight with embarrassment. It is--but it isn’t. Not really. Not deep down. But you don’t want to explain that to anyone, and certainly not to some villain who kidnapped you and is currently standing in between you and a rush of vomit-based endorphins.

He thunks his back on the bathroom door. Petulant, slightly pissed now. “Whatever. I’m not letting you puke in the bathroom.”

The thought of keeping everything you just inhaled inside, the thought of it staying with you, growing on you, thick and sticky and heavy, is too much to handle. It reminds you of how helpless you are. And you are helpless, here, in this bedroom, with a villain who could kill you--if he’s merciful, kill you--with a firm touch of his fingers. You’ll never get out of this, not on your own. And no hero is coming to rescue a literal nobody civilian with no friends or family who cares about her, no one to miss her. You can’t even get into the bathroom to vomit, much less find a way to escape.

He’s staring at you, eyes widened, and you realize you’re feeling hot. You’re breathing heavy, erratic. Are you having a panic attack? A heart attack? Years of strain and stress finally coming to bitter end? You dig your nails into your palm and it hurts, and that’s good, maybe you’ll bleed now, but suddenly the wind is knocked out of you and you’re flat on your back, body bouncing slightly from its weight on the mattress.

He pushed you--he pushed you down. His hands, finger up, are pinning yours firmly against the mattress, your palms flat and stinging from where your nails went in hard; your breathing is gradually returning to normal and you stare up at him, face itching from his hair dangling above you while he stares down with an unreadable expression.

“Stop it,” he hisses. “Just… stop hurting yourself. You’re being stupid.”

Your eyes drift towards his neck, towards the scars and thin line that threatens to bleed red with another good scratch.

The words leave your mouth before you can even think them. “And you’re being a hypocrite.”

He scoffs, and you cringe at a bit of spittle that flies onto your cheek. “That’s different.”

It’s your turn to scoff, and the ludicrousness of the situation combined with the uncomfortable fullness in your stomach has brought back your ability to snark, apparently. “No, it’s really not. I puke, you scratch. Wow, we’re really perfect for each other, huh? No wonder you couldn’t resist kidnapping me!”

“Stop being so damn difficult,” he huffs. “I’m helping you and you’re being a brat.”

Your voice is harsh, snapping, as you spit back, “If you want to help me, then let me go to the bathroom and stick my fingers down my throat until I puke my guts out.” 

His eyes widen and you stare at each other in uncomfortable silence. You feel nervous sweat dampening your back. You feel terrible. You’ve felt terrible for a long time, even before you were kidnapped. You just want to feel.. okay... for a few minutes, just a few minutes at least. 

“I really want to throw up,” you whisper, all snark replaced with softness. Pleading. “It makes me feel better, okay? I just want to feel better for a little while.” You feel tears beginning to prick at your eyes but you can’t wipe them away.

He lifts one of the hands pinning your wrists and brings it up to your cheek. Your heartbeat quickens in fear--despite mantra thoughts of he won’t, he won’t, he said he wouldn’t hurt you like that--as he gently strokes your cheek, then moves up to pet your hair. It would feel nice... if you weren’t kidnapped.

“I’ll make you feel better, you don’t have to do that.”

He continues to stroke your hair, soft and soothing in its intention, until the storm seems to pass.

Finally, he speaks up: “If I get off you, will you try to get to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” you admit, blunt and open. “If the food’s still in my stomach, I’m going to try to puke it out.” You look away, aware of the strangeness of talking about it as a matter-of-fact. “If you didn’t jump on me, I’d probably just have puked it into the garbage bag.”

“How long does that take to get out of your stomach?”

You’re half-tempted to him to Google it, but you bite back your response, not wanting his calmer mood to go away anytime soon. “Um… I think like… 2 hours?”

He sighs, and slumps down on you, his weight heavy and warm and keeping you in place. He reaches for the PS4 controller he’d left on the floor and, as afterthought, grabs the second one before dropping it into your now freed palm.

“Hope you don’t suck at fighting games.”

[sepublic]

Through the Looking Glass Ruins!!!!!

         …

         SO! Onto other things first…

         WRATH IS BRAXAS’ FATHER!??!!? HOLY SHIT, Wrath is a canonical dad, I’d always expressed my… OH MY GOD WRATH IS DAD! And of BRAXAS, that sweetie… How is Braxas such a sweetie with a father like HIM, also-

         Wrath was in casual wear? Either he has a day off, or he got fired by Belos/Kikimora after drawing Luz a map to Eda in Young Blood, Old Souls! Either way this guy has a sudden new level of NUANCE that I am reeling from, and yes I checked, that really is Wrath according to the credits! Dang this puts everything in a WHOLE new light…!

         AMITY HAIR OHMIGOD IT LOOKS SO ADORABLE SHE’S SELF-ACTUALIZING I AM FUCKING SCREAMING HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, it’s PINK and not green… They acknowledged it, Emira did! And they CHANGED IT I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS-

         She looks so BEAUTIFUL and I love the kind of foreshadowing with the bookends of our first shot of Amity having her hair down, and now it’s changed! And she looks adorable and EMIRA AND EDRIC BEING GREAT SIBLINGS I LOVE IT SO MUCH! This… THIS is everything I wanted! I was resigned to not much of them but HELL YEAH they’re being good siblings and we get a look at their rooms, we see them doing MAKEOVERS together this is everything from my favorite fanon content and MORE,

         Also Edric has a date?! Emira says ‘their’ mom… Unless the Golden Guard has a mom, DARN! Not gonna lie, I half-expected a big twist at the end that Edric was dating the Golden Guard, who was doing some sort of reconnaissance as his unrecognized normal self and/or screwing around with the Blights even further, but in a GENUINE sense… But then who knows Kikimora could be posing as GG’s ‘mom’, this is a stretch anyhow-

         JUST HELL YEAH Blight Twins! Blight Twins being sweet and mischievous and supportive of each other, Blight SIBLINGS being siblings, Emira being an older sister and giving advice! And AMITY, Amity mentioning how much Luz has changed stuff, I love that they acknowledge it openly how her life has completely shifted, and now… NOW…!

         No necklace! Red leggings! PINK HAIR?! Is this why Amity in the intro hasn’t been updated yet… She was getting TWO updates, so the animators decided to only animate a change after this final update?!

         King and Gus are also friends it seems, and they even recorded some fun together! I’m surprised at how much Bria and the others mock Gus’ illusion skills… Obviously Belos is kinda terrible but like; I don’t think he’d set aside an entire subset of magic into Illusions without reason! Also that nightmare trip… I LOVE IT, I love Gus applying the creativity of illusions in their ability to completely warp and distort someone’s sense of reality! And I called that dragon-thing being an illusion!

         A graveyard… I wonder if the Gallderstones (is that how it’s spelled) have any relevance or if they’re just neat? I hope Mattholomule and Gus help hide the Looking Glass Graveyard… Damn, that’s another Death reference with Gus, huh! Is it culminating in his respect for the dead, or will it continue further with Gus being a necromancer, or an Oracle who can commune with the deceased, and he has their respect as someone who treats them properly?!

         Also not to get dark but… What if all those Illusionists are dead because of Belos? I’m JUST SAYING…! And not gonna lie, every time someone insulted Illusions, I kept imagining the Illusion Head just suddenly waking up and feeling like there’s a disturbance in the force, as well as a weird compulsion to beat up some Glandus kids. It’d be even funnier if he had beef with the Construction, Plant, and Abomination Heads as well!

         Speaking of which, more confirmation on Construction Magic being related to earth! Glad to see Bria give us a look into that, which furthers my idea of Belos using construction magic… Also dang, Bria and the Glandus Kids really are the parallels/foils to the Detention kids! You’ve got the short ‘nice’ girl, the tall lanky kid, the furry… But the Glandus Kids start off looking nice and cool, but turn out to be rather nasty!

         Meanwhile the Detention Kids seem like bad news and delinquents, but no! They’re just demonized and actually very kind and chill! The Detention Kids are looked down upon, the Glandus Kids are appraised… The Detention Kids are dual-track, the Glandus Kids are singular; Glandus Kids from, well, GLANDUS, Detention Kids from Hexside… One’s ‘mischief’ is actually very neat and cool, the other’s is literal grave robbing.

         I guess that’s how the bleeding statues got past the censors- It’s technically just an illusion! Also more insight into how Glandus works with its Survival of the Fittest mentality, I wonder if we’ll get confirmation on which coven heads came from there, how that might influence them as adults…

         What is Glandus like, is it more whole-heartedly accepting of Belos’ rule, hence its harsh ideals? Was it made after Hexside? Does Bump hate it for being so cruel like that, or is it just school bias? And dang poor Mattholomule, I always had a feeling he sort of felt and knew that he wasn’t much, so he accepted and compensated by deliberately doing whatever he can for power…

         They confirmed he’s from Glandus, and I appreciate this new look at him! This new leaf turned… Hot take but he’s honestly not as bad as Boscha, his stint with Gus was a one-time thing that Gus was able to live with! And that seems pretty good to set them up as friends! Speaking of Boscha, Willow was injured by pixies? And the last time we heard of pixies, they belonged to Boscha and caused the school to get shut down… Did BOSCHA DO THIS I SWEAR SHE IS DEAD TO ME-

         (Also she’s mentioned in the credits for this episode but I don’t remember hearing her? I might’ve gotten distracted with so much other things.)

         Gus! I like the insight into his relationship with Illusions, and I appreciate how he’s considering other forms of magic… But this hesitation might just serve to reaffirm his believe in Illusions, which is okay! It’s all about choice… And yeah, it seems Gus also has a case of impostor syndrome like King, no wonder they get along so well! I love the glimpses into Gus’ house and the confirmation that he has a library card, no Perry though alas…!

         I appreciate how Gus feels overlooked, like he has no real substance, which is how his Illusions reflect a desire to draw attention, but also the idea that there’s nothing real beneath them… Again, very much like King! And Gus, he’s not a powerhouse like the rest, he’s SKILLED and smart, but strength isn’t his forte, it’s not brute force he operates on, but cleverness! Trickery, I like it…! It’s a nice callback to his last A-plot episode, SVSF, where instead of fighting Mattholomule physically, Gus’ solution is to think outside the box and pull the alarm!

         You go kid, not relying on brute strength but showing that some clever tricks and thinking are just as valid! Kinda wonder if this episode is lowkey a discussion on masculinity for young boys, especially with Gus growing older with puberty, though the latter is mostly because his actual VA grew… But maybe the writers rolled with that and incorporated it, or it’s just a very neat coincidence! Also, it is me or did Mattholomule’s voice change? And the gag that Gavin’s dad looks identical to him, even moreso because he’s NOT supposed to have a moustache… That’s great!

         Malphas! Love this reference to a classic demon, I wasn’t sure if Malphas was the librarian with glasses whom I’ve always headcanoned as a father figure to Amity… But maybe it’s actually this bird dude! He seems adept in Bard magic, and I love the reveal of his true crow appearance… Guess those theorists were right that the one-eyed figure is from the Forbidden Stacks! Also Malphas NOT COOL with Amity, but I’m glad Luz changed his mind, and I wonder how that adventure looked…

         Which- DAMN, the RSD with Luz! She looks so UTTERLY BROKEN when Amity mentions doing stupid things, and she didn’t mean it like that, but Luz just looks so completely shattered and you can tell she wants to cry but instead she bottles it up and tries to take it in stride, and that plays into her trying to overcompensate for her mistakes AGAIN… SOMEONE GET IT TO HER HEAD that she doesn’t need to! I’m scared for Luz, and I was SO scared this episode would end on a bad note…

         BUT DOAHLDdFAEONDKFHN LUMITY KISS LUMITY KISS! ONE-SIDED BUT THEY FINALLY FUCKING KNOW AND AMITY IS LIKE WHAAAAT AND I WAS WAITING FOR IT AND I COULD FEEL IT HAPPEN AND GAY KISS! GAY KISS ON-SCREEN!!! And the way Luz just FLOPS to the ground on her knees AAHJJFFKHGGK and no Alador nor Odalia to ruin this, UTTERLY PERFECT and the twins WATCHING OOOHHHHGGGG YYYEEAAAAHHH-

         This is EVERYTHING I ever wanted!

         What an AMAZING episode with wonderful characer beats and reveals! Again, Amity’s growth as a character, that brief insight into how Luz as a person is very chaotic and sometimes frustrating for Amity and forces her to reevaluate, but ultimately it’s good and Luz DOES try her best, and Amity clearly wanted to make things up for Luz and apologize, they’re BOTH doing things, just the little moments!

         Also, Alex Lawther voices Philip Wittebane! He has long hair and a vaguely british accent, he’s… He’s Belos isn’t he? And they got a new VA because having him voiced by Matthew Rhys would be really spoiler-y right? He’s got the long hair and he’s a nerd… And with how he talks of finding a way back home, maybe Belos really DOES just want to return home, after all? He talks of making a way back home…

         And we see a glimpse of the Portal, so it might’ve brought him there? Or did Philip succeed in making it, and that was his blueprint designs? Did he arrive by Titan’s Blood? What happened to the portal if it brought him there, or if he made it? Why the scar, why near Eda’s house, partially buried?

         Was it lost before he could finish his work, and Philip got side-tracked into something else… Perhaps going on a crusade, on behalf of a curse/demon that possessed him? A demon that killed King’s father…? Was the portal broken and he had to discard it, but then it naturally healed- Or did it just need to recharge, maybe Philip DID make it back home, WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! Is there some sort of doppelganger for Philip, is BELOS his doppelganger?! What is THIS WHAT-

         WHAT AN EPISODE!

[just-come-baek]

Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary:  During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

Warnings: tooth-rooting fluff | jungkook is the goodest boy | jungkook, hoseok, and jimin are hot hockey players | ice rink injuries | violence | pickpocketing | alcohol consumption | improper babysitting | namjoon, jin, and taehyung are of different age | questionable choices | teasing | graphic scene descriptions | police questioning | vanilla smut | thigh riding | unprotected sex | jungkook says like one (1) dirty line

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

 3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

 2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.  

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh! 

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him. 

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger. 

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Colour Prompt :)

#22 - purple: bruise, pain, mystery

For Scott & John (& Gordon?)

A Little Ruthlessness

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Gordon, John, Scott

First thing I've written in a good week and a half, and the longest thing I've written in... a while (thank you, rl, for hitting me hard enough to wreck my muses when I was planning on celebrating finishing my dissertation by writing lots). Also highly self-indulgent because why not.

So we have some Scott&Gordon&John, which is a highly entertaining combination and I loved writing this. I think I actually hit all three of those prompts with this...

Colour Symbol Prompts

“He’s late,” Gordon huffed, fog erupting from his mouth as he rubbed his arms to stave off the winter chill. “What’s taking him so long?”

Leaning against a nearby wall nonchalantly, bundled up in so many layers Gordon had laughed when he’d first seen him and poking at his tablet, John shrugged. If Gordon didn’t know his brother as well as he did, he’d think the ginger wasn’t worried at all.

There was an urgency to the way he was poking at the screen, though. John didn’t do big, flashy, displays of emotion, but when you knew what to look for, the deliberate placement of each digit as he manipulated whatever was on the screen screamed unease, and even a little bit of frustration.

Their brother was supposed to have met up with them an hour ago, as soon as he escaped the social gathering he’d been coerced into by what Gordon could only assume was an old flame from high school. For all that Scott was naturally charismatic and popular, it was an open secret in their family that he hadn’t managed to keep any of his old high school friendships. Teenagers were fickle things, and he’d been too busy raising four younger brothers to fill the social quota they’d expected of him at the time, let alone after they lost Dad as well.

Still, the high school reunion had called, and for some reason, Scott had answered.

He wasn’t supposed to stay there so long, though. Gordon and John had both determined that there was a high chance Scott would be leaving the reunion reminded of all the reasons why he hadn’t been able to keep those friendships and decided to make their own arrangements for the evening. Nothing outlandish – not when John was involved – but a trio of brothers hanging out without the stress of their otherwise busy lives hanging over them.

Not the usual trio of brothers that might be expected to hang out, but as much as Virgil would always jump to help Scott, where they had planned really wasn’t for their softer brother – and Alan was underage anyway.

Beating casinos at their own money-laundering game required just a touch of ruthlessness, and that was very much John’s area of expertise. Gordon found it fun, and Scott always enjoyed taking selfish rich snobs a peg or several. It also required enough strategic thinking and brainpower to cut off any unwelcome dwelling their big brother might otherwise land himself in.

That meant nothing if Scott wasn’t even showing up in the first place.

“Have you called him?” Gordon shot over at John, who was still poking away deliberately at his tablet.

“No answer,” the ginger replied, breath fogging in front of his own face. He didn’t even seem to notice – then again, all those ridiculous layers were probably doing their job to keep him warm. Gordon’s had failed him about half an hour ago. In his defence, he hadn’t exactly planned to be hanging around in the cold this long. “He’s not read any messages, either.”

If they’d gone to all this trouble to plan a pick-me-up for Scott after an expected downer of an evening, their big brother had better not have managed to find some entertainment and forgotten to let them know.

But that wasn’t like Scott at all – even if he had initially forgotten, a call or message from John would have reminded him instantly.

Gordon shivered again. Something didn’t seem right.

“So now what?” he asked instead, not because he didn’t have any ideas – crashing the reunion was an obvious one that sprung to mind – but because John was probably already enacting a plan or several of his own already.

“His phone’s location transmitter’s off,” John said by way of answer. “Actually, his phone seems to be dead in general.” The same phone John and Scott had both checked was fully charged on the way here so he didn’t lose contact with them?

Gordon’s eyes narrowed.

“So what have you got?” There was no way John hadn’t got something by now.

“His watch isn’t transmitting, either,” his brother reported. “But…” He trailed off, staring intently at something Gordon couldn’t see on the screen.

The temptation was there to prod him – verbally or literally – but unlike when John was a mere hologram that may or may not be transmitting, this time Gordon could see that he was mid-thought, still working, still doing something to figure out why their big brother had gone dark, and held back.

It didn’t take John long to finish whatever he was doing.

“I’ve got a location.” The astronaut kicked off from the wall he was leaning against and started striding forwards, long legs uncaring that Gordon’s were much shorter. It took a second or two to jog to catch up.

“What have you got?” he repeated.

A map of the area flashed up above the tablet; orange and yellow highlighted their own position, moving quickly down the street, while a flickering blue icon blinked in and out of existence unsteadily down a side alley four blocks away.

“You said it wasn’t transmitting?”

“It’s not,” John said shortly. “I triangulated all the signals within the appropriate parameters until I picked up traces of its electronic residue.”

Residue didn’t sound promising. Gordon resumed his jog, knowing that John was fully capable of keeping up with him, and mentally mapped out the shortest route to the weakly flickering blue dot. It was staying in the exact same location, not even a slight waver in position, and that, Gordon really didn’t like.

Scott wasn’t one for staying still.

Unconsciously, his pace hastened further. By the time the alley loomed ahead, visible in person and not just lines on a hologram, he was all but sprinting. John was a little way behind him, but that was fine.

Gordon’s instincts screamed for him to keep going, to charge straight into the alley and find out what was going on, but he reined them in, forcing his legs to slow to a walk, and then a stop at the entrance to the alley.

They had no idea what they were walking into, and despite all the signs pointing to not, Gordon really didn’t want to interrupt if Scott had simply found entertainment and forgotten about them. More realistically, he also didn’t want to charge into a hostile situation unaware.

There were no sounds coming from the alley. Nothing to tell him what was going on, but also enough to tell him what wasn’t. With one glance back to see how far behind John was – not far, only seconds out – Gordon slipped around the corner.

Alleys were always somehow gloomier than the surrounding streets. Lighting never seemed to work quite so well; John could no doubt explain it, but an explanation wasn’t important right then.

What was important was that, in the resultant gloom, something was slumped over on the ground. Something that Gordon approached carefully, glancing around to make sure nothing else was laying in wait with a nasty surprise.

Nothing appeared, even as he took the last few steps, and his rigid restraint snapped.

“Scott!” His knee protested as it hit the street sharply but that was insignificant in the face of the ragdoll impersonation his eldest brother was doing spectacularly well. “Hey, Scott?”

His cold fingers found his brother’s throat, pressing up against the pulse point. Scott’s skin was almost as cold as his own, but the steady thrum of his heartbeat beat reassuringly against his fingertips.

Hurried footsteps behind him announced John’s arrival.

“Give me some light,” Gordon ordered, not looking up at him. A blink later and a pale, holographic blue washed over the pair of them. Tablets didn’t have the best torches in the world, but it did the job.

Scott’s eyes were closed, although the lack of response had already implied their brother was out cold. One had a spectacular ring of colour around it, matching the blotches that covered every visible section of skin. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in a way that had Gordon fearfully inspecting his lip in the hopes that it was just a cut.

The light quivered a little as John knelt down on Scott’s other side.

“His watch is smashed,” the ginger reported. It made sense, considering how difficult it had been to track, but their watches were IR standard. They didn’t smash easily. “Broken wrist, too. How’s his head?”

“Bruised, like the rest of him,” Gordon replied. “Looks like he cut his lip on his tooth, and he’s going to have a fantastic shiner.” He gingerly felt around. “Splitting headache, too. His head’s not bleeding but it’s taken a hard knock.”

“Try and get a response while I deal with his wrist,” John ordered. The tablet light moved away from Scott’s face, leaving it shadowed by alley-gloom, but Gordon could still see well enough to lightly tap a less-colourful portion of his cheek.

“Hey, Scott,” he coaxed. “This isn’t a great place for a nap, you know, bro.” Rustling indicated that John was deploying something medical. Gordon wasn’t even surprised he had something on him, although it was probably brought along just in case gravity got the better of him, and not because he was expecting to patch up their brother when they’d left home earlier. “C’mon, Scotty.”

The faint groan he got was music to his ears.

“That’s right,” he encouraged. “Really not a good place to nap.”

In the gloom, he couldn’t make out the exact moment familiar blue eyes edged open, but he heard the second, louder, groan, followed almost immediately by a sharp inhale that could only be pain.

“G’don?”

“Right here,” he confirmed, resting his hands lightly on Scott’s shoulders in case his idiot of a brother thought attempting to sit up was a good idea. “John’s here, too.”

He got a pain-smothered grunt in response. Muscles twitched under his palms, and then he was predictably forced to keep Scott still.

“Nope,” he chirped. “No moving for you just yet. How’s his wrist, John?”

“Strapped up,” the ginger answered. “How aware is he?”

“’nuff,” Scott rasped weakly before Gordon could reply. “W’ah-ow.”

“Hospital or home?” Gordon looked away from Scott to glance at where John was once again poking at his tablet, somewhat awkwardly as he was also holding Scott’s arm still with one hand.

“’ome,” Scott interjected.

“We’re closer to Thunderbird One than the hospital,” John agreed. “Once we reach her we can run a scan.”

And if the scan showed up something they couldn’t handle at home, Thunderbird One could get Scott to a hospital faster than an ambulance. Gordon nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, looking back down at Scott. “I’ll need a hand picking him up.”

“Ic’n-”

“Nope.” He overrode Scott’s protest. “I doubt you can even see straight right now. You’re not walking.”

The wordless noise he got in response told him he was right, and that Scott didn’t want to admit it.

John’s tablet vanished somewhere in amongst the multitude of layers he was wearing as the ginger left Scott’s wrist to kneel opposite Gordon instead. “How do you want to do this?”

Gordon considered his options, quickly realising that the one that would hurt Scott the least was also the one his brother would hate the most. With no idea what damage he’d taken to the ribs, putting any substantial pressure on his abdomen could spell disaster.

He drew Scott’s unbroken wrist up, to renewed protest, and looped it around the back of his own neck. “It’s not far,” he said. “Bridal’s safest.” Not the easiest, but Gordon was always up for a challenge.

“No,” Scott huffed, but John nodded, like he’d come to the same conclusion. He probably had.

Between them it took no time at all to get Scott loosely in position, broken wrist cradled limply on his stomach as Gordon and John slipped their arms beneath him and prepared to shift.

“Whenever you’re ready,” John said, and Gordon’s mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“On three. One, two, three.”

Scott wasn’t light by any means, but despite his protests he didn’t resist as between the two of them they got him into the air, suspended between them for a moment before John carefully shifted his grip until the battered body of their big brother slipped neatly into Gordon’s arms.

His shoulders protested at the weight, but Gordon ignored them in favour of immediately starting to move. He wasn’t Virgil; he couldn’t carry Scott around as though he weighed nothing, and there was a definite, short, time limit before his muscles gave out.

Scott gave a pained huff, the air brushing past Gordon’s jaw. “Ic’n walk,” he muttered again. Gordon appreciated that he wasn’t trying to prove it, because if Scott actually tried, he’d almost certainly end up dropping him and probably injure them both in the process. At least Scott was mentally aware enough to recognise that.

“Not until we know how badly injured you are,” John told him firmly. “One’s not far from here.” Gordon let him lead the way, trusting him to pick out the shortest route to where the Thunderbird was secured. They left the gloom of the alley for the better-lit streets, and Gordon almost wished they hadn’t. The bruising had been bad enough in the half-light conjured by the tablet; under the powerful street lighting, Scott looked even worse.

When Gordon found out who did this to his brother, they were going to regret it.

Blue eyes, one barely able to open, were regarding him worriedly, as though Gordon was the one that needed fretting over. The hand slung over his shoulder squeezed shakily when something made him stumble, and Gordon grinned down at him thinly once he regained his footing.

“Nearly there,” he promised, both his brother and his protesting muscles. In front of him, John had reproduced his tablet from the volume of clothing he was wearing and was tapping away even as he led Gordon around another corner.

Thunderbird One glittered in the darkness of the park, tucked away mostly out of sight. The stealth coating Scott rarely bothered to use since the Zero-X had done its job at preventing gawkers gathering around, although now John had turned it off it was only a matter of time before late night crowds gathered.

Gordon stumbled again as he approached, muscles burning, and Scott let out an almost silent hiss. A hum of a hover stretcher murmured its way into earshot, guided by John, and Gordon gratefully let it take Scott’s weight, slipping his screaming arms out from underneath him and ducking away from the arm slung around his shoulder.

True to form, Scott immediately started to sit up, but John was there with a gentle but firm touch. In his other hand, the medscanner flickered yellow.

Rubbing at his protesting shoulders, Gordon was reluctantly relieved to hand over responsibility to his older brother as John somehow managed to keep Scott laying down long enough to get the stretcher inside Thunderbird One. Gordon followed, just in time to hear John sigh.

“-broken foot, so no, you couldn’t walk, Scott.”

“So,” he interrupted before Scott found a reason why that wouldn’t stop him. “What’s the verdict, Johnny?”

“Don’t call me that,” John snapped back automatically. “Nothing’s flagging up as beyond our facilities, but I’ve sent the results to Grandma for final verdict.”

Grandma, Virgil, and their arsenal of medical equipment could handle a lot, so that by itself wasn’t completely reassuring, but it went a little way towards it.

“Do we know what happened?” he asked, rather than dwell on that for long. “Scott?”

“N’dea,” his brother mumbled. “D’n r’mber ‘thing ‘fter th’arty.” He sounded put-out enough for it to be the truth.

Gordon caught John’s eye and the ginger’s lips thinned. They’d find out who did it, one way or another. No-one messed with their family and got away with it, no matter how much that contradicted with International Rescue’s philosophies.

Sometimes, a little ruthlessness was necessary.

[jocia92]

… So much of an actor’s craft is figuring out the “I want” of their character, but that’s got to be a little different with Tom since he states that he literally cannot want anything. What challenge or opportunity did that pose for you?

I think he wants to improve. I think he wants to calibrate according to Alma’s needs, wants, and desires. I think he’s very ready to learn and to understand. That was the kind of primary objective: listen, learn, calibrate, improve. That’s almost the track of each scenario. He just gets a little better each time, and the process gets a little faster. But certainly, in the beginning, he’s just delivering this sort of 20 classic chat-up lines that he’s been uploaded with and getting it all wrong. It’s fun to watch the machine learn and chart that progress.

On a practical or philosophical level, how did you approach the process of humanizing a character that’s an algorithm, or did you at all?

It was very much about charting with Maria exactly when we want to see the machine, when we want to see the human. Even playing with that ratio was really interesting and fun. It’s not so much about watching him play the machine, but watching a character try to play the human. Certainly, in the beginning, in some of the not quite so successful human moments, shall we say, we deconstructed what we regarded as the conventional human behavior in that. We looked at a lot of screwball comedies, like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Katharine Hepburn movies. [We were] taking a move or a gesture, breaking that down, and just doing two of the things. It just suddenly looks very odd and wrong, and you’re like, “Oh, this is what a human does in this moment!” But it’s just off. It was really as much about looking at the human.

You’ve mentioned things like The Philadelphia Story as shaping the film and its central relationship. Was that to ground it in reality or further ensconce it in the warped reality of cinema? Grant and Stewart are recognizable to us as people, but things like that mid-Atlantic lilt were entirely manufactured for the screen.

That was a very key point for Maria in referencing Cary Grant. The hair color that we chose for Tom was very much like Cary Grant’s hair color, being a shade darker than is possibly human. And the skin tone being slightly artificial for Tom. You’re right, Cary Grant is often very heightened and mannered sometimes, and it works in the situation in the style of the thing that he’s in. But we quite liked the idea that Tom has been uploaded with some outdated versions of what a romantic lead was supposed to behave like.

It’s striking just how thought-out things had to be down to how Tom responds to dead air space in a conversation. What was the process behind those small moments that can make or break the believability of a character?

It was very fun to play with, and probably quite frustrating for a lot of the human actors. Maren was giving a beautifully naturalistic performance, and the conventional responses that there should be from her scene partner weren’t there. We deliberately strip those away—sometimes without telling her, sometimes without needing to tell her. It’s just the way that Tom was, so it was about pushing those moments into a space that became a little uncomfortable: not jumping in on the lines where you might normally jump in, sometimes coming in hard, sometimes offering a delayed response, sometimes none at all. Playing with those, and watching how comfortable or uncomfortable that made them both, was really fun.

Did that frustration, built in by the process, bleed over for Maren into the character of Alma, do you think?

Maybe for Maren. Certainly, for me, it was frustrating in that I would have to remember not to respond in the way that I might normally and remove some of those things. [I had to] really break down exactly what Tom is thinking, what his programming is doing in that point, how he’s responding and calibrating, and whether we see that or not. Choosing moments to show the human, to show the machine. Along with Maria, that was one of the great joys of the role.

How did you settle on the physicality of the character? Was it at all helpful to have done something like Beauty and the Beast in a mo-cap suit to be hyper-aware of how your own movements translate to the screen?

Very much so. In fact, in pretty much every role I’ve done since Beauty and the Beast, I’ve incorporated not always a movement coach, but I’ve definitely looked at movement theory and physicality in a totally new way because of the challenges of that role. And, I have to say, dance plays a huge part in that. Whether it’s incorporated on the screen or if it’s something that just feels as if it helps the role, I often find that a dance studio is a very fruitful space to discover things about your character’s physicality. Learning the rumba for this role was incredibly helpful because it’s a very precise, technical, almost robotic dance in terms of the laser precision that’s needed to get it absolutely right. I had a fantastically exact teacher in Berlin who was teaching me the rumba the whole way through the shoot. We shot that [one scene] quite near the end of the shoot. Just to have those lessons, that kind of physicality, and that poise with me the whole way through the role was really useful.

How did the role being in a non-native tongue affect the characterization of Tom? Was it all easier to make him seem slightly unreal given that the words might not come quite as naturally as they would in English?

I think it was a deliberate choice on the part of Maria to look for a foreign actor who could speak German. She needed somebody who could both get their heads and their mouths around the very technical German that was required, which, even for a German is pretty complex, but also who had that sense of otherness. I’m sure they could have tailored the screenplay to any number of nationalities, but I was very happy they came to me and made him British. It definitely helped with, as I say, the fact that he’s listening, learning, focusing, trying to improve…that was literally all I was doing last summer, every day.

How do you lock onto the frequency of German comedy, which isn’t always something people associate with that country or people? How is it different than doing something like the more mannered British wit of Blithe Spirit or the broad studio comedy of Eurovision Song Contest?

It’s not a country known for it, but I think they should [be]. I find Germans very funny. They have a very interesting sense of humor. What’s particularly delightful is the way that they can tackle really kind of big, sometimes weighty, issues with a certain wit and lightness of touch, which is not common to all countries. Physical comedy, I think, is fairly universal. I think there’s something almost farcical about some of the physical stuff that we managed to get in this. It was really fun to make people laugh in a foreign language. It was surprisingly delightful. It felt very unifying, somehow, to be able to get a joke across in any language.

[mirukostallbabygirl]

Finally seeing each other after the pandemic ends Hcs (Gn!Reader)

So basically I got really fucking sad

So here’s this

Contents: (quirkless au) fluff, semi-angst buildup but happy end, blood? (but it’s a nose bleed), daddy kink (bakugo)

Characters: Hawks, Denki, Sero, Miruko, Bakugo

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

He was nervous waiting at the airport

The two of you started dating on campus, but you had to go back home when cases started ramping up

He just stayed in the dorms because he had nowhere else to go, and there were a few other students that did the same

But your parent(s) demanded that you come home to stay safe

You think it was just an excuse to get you to be their “little kid” again

So you hadn’t seen eachother since it started, and it was getting to the both of you

He sat near the top of the many escalators, keeping an eye out for you while trying to scroll through his phone as a distraction

It wasn’t working

He missed you so much

FaceTiming and texting were nice, but they didn’t replace the time he had with you while you were there with him

You’d walk to classes and go get coffee, getting the cheapest stuff that they had so that you could afford dinner on the days where there were food trucks down the street

The time he spent with you was electrifying, and a year away from it was incredibly hard

There were even times where he thought that you would want to stop

It was like doing long distance, and he knew how a lot of relationships didn’t make it through that

But whenever he started freaking out, it seemed like you knew, and texted him about some silly thing your family dog did, or fuming about your parent(s)

But what if you decided it really was too much? What if you wanted to stay back? What if you got another flight to avoid him? What if...

... he was overthinking

You had texted him a picture of your plane ticket with a bunch of kissy face emojis and “I’m so excited”

His mind wouldn’t stop though

He glanced up at the escalators for the seemingly hundredth time

He took in the sight of people flooding in and turned back

Wait— people flooding in— that means you

His head whipped back faster than he thought possible

And there you were, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and scanning the room for messy blond hair

You two made eye contact for a second before bolting towards eachother, skidding across the white tile floor to get there

You met it an explosive hug, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, pulling your legs up around his hips

You could feel a wet spot forming on your shoulder where he had nuzzled in, and you were sure you were crying as well

You missed him so much

You pulled slightly away after a moment to look at him, take in his features after only ever seeing them through a screen for so long

His voice was wobbly as he choked out “hey, baby bird,”

You smiled, tears were streaming down your face in buckets by now, and managed out a small “hey”

You grabbed his face and smashed his lips against your own

It was ugly, and not the best kiss, but you were there together after so long and that’s what mattered most

Denki Kaminari

He checked the address on his phone nervously as he waited at the bus stop

You were going to meet him at a Ramen restaurant that you had found online

He was nervous as he boarded the train-- you two had dated for a while before the world ended, and you had a flow to the relationship

But it had been so long, would it be like your first date all over again? would it be the same? He didn’t know and he was nervous to find out

He didn’t know that you were gnawing at your lip as you walked down the street to get to the restaurant

A feeling beyond butterflies stirred in your stomach, nerves and adrenaline, and the need to see him

you were so excited you felt like you would die, but at the same time questions lingered in the back of your mind

you had stayed in contact, and he responded quickly to your messages, and you had scheduled a date literally minutes after the cases being low enough to return to normal was aired on TV

But that never stopped the nerves of meeting someone you care so deeply about after so long

You felt your phone buzz in your hand, his name lighting up your phone screen and sending electricity down your spine

it read I'm almost there :) 

you were almost there, too

it was just around the corner, and you had run past it on your jog this morning after the weird feeling of needing to know it existed nagged you, even though you had seen it a million times while walking down the street

You turned the corner just as he did and...

Promptly smashed your noses together

he wailed and you groaned, each of you lifting a hand up to grip your respective noses

But your ears perked up when you heard his voice

you opened your eyes wide to see he’d done the same, looking back at you with disbelief

he let out a small “y/n?”

your hand dropped down (after you were pretty sure it wasn’t hurt, but it felt like it needed ice) to get a better look at him

his eyebrows were high, eyes wide, and mouth agape as he took you in

you gingerly moved towards him, making sure to lean your head and angle your face away as you moved forwards

and then gently wrapped your arms around him, features soft as you put your head on his shoulder

soon his arms wrapped around you, and you both sighed, chuckling that this was your first meeting after being away for so long

you pulled away and gestured toward his nose “You okay?” a small trickle of blood dripped down and he lifted a hand up to his nose

“I swear this nose bleed is seasonal, it’s not your fault,” he laughed out as he leaned forward to not get blood on his clothes, “it is a bit of a problem, though.”

you nodded and grabbed his hand, crossing the street to a CVS pharmacy 

you hurried though aisles before finally making it to the bathroom, thanking whatever power there be that it wasn’t locked

He grabbed a handful of paper towels as you went to go buy a box of tissues that wouldn’t be so abrasive on his nose

when your returned, he was nearing the end of it, and the tissues absorbed the last of it

he looked at you and blushed, “Ah I’m sorry, our first date back and I got a nose bleed and we ended up at a CVS.”

You just shook your head and pressed your lips against his, it was short but filled with the like (dare you say love) that you had pent up over your time apart

When you pulled away you teased “You might wanna wash your face there, bud. That kiss was a little iron-y” 

Hanta Sero

It was almost cruel how you ended up alone in the pandemic

he had just moved into your apartment, and had to go away on a business trip to Spain 

You two had joked around about it-- him being able to take a trip to suck a romantic place, without you

he was supposed to be gone 2 weeks

at the end of week 1, the world went into a total shutdown

he was stuck in Spain, and you were stuck at home, alone

You kept in contact obviously, it had been years that you had been dating, but it was the most strain you two had ever been under

He felt bad keeping a secret from you but he felt like he had to-- besides, it would be great for you in the end

so he lied and said that he couldn’t call that night because he had a meeting, avoiding the subject the you said you could call earlier or later

What’s the fun in telling you that he couldn’t call was because he had gotten a plane ticket back home?

So he was sitting nervously in a plane seat, hoping you wouldn’t be upset

Meanwhile, you were moping, convinced you had finally bored him, he was going to start pushing you away 

so you microwaved a TV dinner and flipped on the cooking channel, acknowledging how sad it was that you were eating mushy food that was still cold in the middle while watching top chefs create fabulous dishes

An array of shows came on, all of them reruns from before when they could actually be on set

A show came on that you found particularly infuriating, and you sighed as you watched an inexperienced chef nearly burn down the kitchen by putting water on a grease fire

You didn't know why you enjoyed the show so much given how much the contestants bothered you, but you watched it nonetheless 

A particularly idiotic chef burned his fish to the point of no return and you were screaming out insults

“Dude, how old are you,” you accused, “you should at least know how to do this.”

“Hmm, I’d say around 38.” you heard a voice speak from behind you

your head whipped around so fast you were scare you would get whiplash

“W-why are you here?” you asked, too stunned to believe your eyes

“Wow, you sound so excited” he let out a chuckle, nervous now at your response

“what? oh-- no no no...” you rambled out, scrambling up to crawl over the back of the couch

he relaxed once you wrapped your arms firmly around his waist, your knees digging into the cack of the couch and ass sticking out in the air as you gripped him to make sure he was real

He grabbed onto your wrists to place them on his shoulders, then grabbed your hips to pull you off the couch to wrap around his waist

you hadn’t noticed you were crying until you got choked up when trying to say “I missed you”

“I missed you too” he managed, voce cracking in emotion, as well

you slid the palms he placed on his shoulders around his neck, pulling him closer to press your lips against his

You started gentle, but the need and excitement sped the two of you up

slow lips turned into clashing teeth, and gentle hands on your waist turned into groping

he pulled away for a second to sigh out “I’m so glad you aren’t mad”

And all you did in response was pull him closer

Rumi Usagiyama (Miruko)

Rumi was a big deal

She’s famous for a lot of reasons-- but one of the many was how many generous donations she had made towards finding a cure for Covid-19

You two had been dating for a while, so much so that you had talked about moving in together

the only reason you didn’t was because she didn’t want to thrust you into the spotlight 

But when you couldn’t even see each other, you so wished that you would’ve fought her on that a bit more, gotten her to let you, convinced her that you were ready

but you hadn’t seen her in so long, and she was so busy, and even after the vaccine was administered to all of the population, you hadn’t set up a plan to meet

so you sat in a bar, glaring down at your second rum and coke of the evening-- you felt like shit

Bars had stopped running during the pandemic, and the screens that used to play sports obnoxiously loud now play the news, the fucking news

You were seriously concerned about the world

But that was the only distraction you had, so you watched the headlines fly by, a fire was extinguished off of the highway, mountain climbing was the new “hottest pace to be this year”, and some TV show host made an apology for an inappropriate joke

then you saw the face of your... girlfriend? could you call it that? you still talked but she didn’t seem like she wanted to see you

but you saw Rumi in the street outside of a bar downtown

Wait... you were in a bar... downtown... and Rumi was passing by the window to your left

You shot up, mind not fully working as you sprinted out the door

“RUMI?!” You screamed a little too loud

She perked up at your voice, turning around and cringing as she saw the fleet of cameras coming to harass her getting nearer

So she grabbed your arm and dragged you further down the street, deeper down until she made it to the destination she had been going to

You hadn’t realized that the bar you were at was so close to her office (ok, you did know that, but you didn’t want to admit that you had hoped this would happen)

She continued pulling you up the stairs, and your drunken giggles echoed through the empty staircase

Finally making it past her door, she pushed you against the wall and kissed you— hard

There was no preparation, she just pushed your mouth open, forcing her toungue out to lick at your bootom lip, moving in slightly before pulling out, moving in a cycle of this

Her hands gripped at the sides of your face keeping you close to her

You submit to her, only breaking away when she wouldn’t let you breathe for too long

She pulled away finally, a faintly noticeable blush on her face as she stepped away

Leaving you drunk in many ways— not just on alcohol

You were dazed from such sudden passion after going so long without it

You decided you would fight for more of that from now on

“Uhm.. well, I missed you” she mumbled out, feeling stupid now for assuming you shared her desire earlier

You moved over to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk “you don’t even know how much I missed you” you stuttered out

Her shoulders relaxed and the fake grin she had on turned into a real one

“That was too long without you” she continued “I thought I was going to lose my mind, and I’m sorry I didn’t arrange to meet up sooner I’ve just been so busy but now I promise I’ll make time for you but it’s been really hard going bac—“

You cut off her rambling by pressing a quick kiss to her lips

“You know how you can make it better?” Your words were still slurred from earlier and they were quiet, but you knew she could hear you

She mumbled out a meek “what” before you were whispering in her ear

“Let me move in with you”

“I would love that”

Katsuki Bakugo

(Lol ok so ik this isn’t about his parents— but this was too funny to not use it, so here’s bakugo truly taking after his mother)

he had been making you call him daddy ever since you did it as a joke on FaceTime

At the start, he just said that you should do it for fun

But he grew more confident as time went on, and he had started making you beg “daddy” for things

And you didn’t hate it

But what you knew would be bad is if either of you let it slip in front of your parent(s) who insisted on tagging along with you to the station

You had decided to meet at the train station that was about 30 minutes from where both of you sheltered for the lockdown— he was taking the bus down from the north and you were driving with your parents up from the south

You got there and immidiately started scanning for your impulsive boyfriend

You had a plan to get to him before your parents could

So that you could reinforce what you had stressed over text many times— don’t. Say. Daddy.

Then you saw spiky blond hair sticking out of the crowd and started running

Hoping your parents would see it as you excuse let running towards him rather than out of the need to get to him in time

He turned to you as the crowd parted to let you jog towards him

He smiled and pulled you close, pressing your lips together when you got close enough

But he frowned when you seemed preoccupied and pulled away quickly

“Okay, I love you, but I’m serious about the daddy thing” you whispered daddy, you weren’t usually ashamed of it but it felt weird with all of the people that could overhear

“What are you shy” he cocked an eyebrow, moving to pull you close again

But you insisted “seriously, they’ll whoop my ass if they hear it— a they think I’m still a little kid”

“Oh no. Only I’m allowed to hit that pretty little ass of y-“

You shoved your hand over his mouth hissing out his name, giving him one last death glare before your parents catched up

“Hello there” he greeted them politely

You were incredibly relieved that he seemed perfectly normal and that his usual temper wasn’t coming through

Your parents had met bakugo before, but this was a whole new level of stressful as both your first time seeing him after so long, as well as the first time since your new dynamic came into play

But the exchange went well, and your parents were waiting on the platform as the two of you boarded and the t turned away

He waited until you were settled in the train to tap you on the ass, and slide his hand in your back pocket, muttering how much you were blushing into your ear

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Showers and Cuddles and Blood, Oh My! | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Coming at you with another Mikaelson boys sharing fic because the last one seemed to go over well! I'll probably continue on that route if the response stays the same. I mean, heck, if I can have all three I'll take all three so why not! Hope y'all enjoy! Stay tuned for more, I have some juicy stuff in the works ;) Much love <3

Description: Elijah and Klaus leave Y/n with Kol for the weekend while they're out hunting enemies, all is well until they return, scared and hurt. Y/n works her magic Y/n powers and makes it all better. Happy ending yay!

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, leaned in Klaus' favor

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! Angst-y, mentions of blood and battle, Smut (not full, just foreplay things)

Word count: 3909

Tags: FLUFF, angst-ish, smut

(Photos not mine but the mood board is :) )

“Kol, pass the popcorn,” you yell at him from across the living room without dragging your eyes from the television screen, not willing to miss a second of The Bachelor just because he’s hogging the snacks.

He’s had the bowl in his lap for the vast majority of the show, slowly munching away on the goodies you had made. If he was on the couch with you there wouldn't be a problem, you could just scoot over and you wouldn’t have to look away, but he’s on an armchair across the room. To be fair, you had made him sit there. You didn’t want him to distract you. Kol’s attention span is worse than a kindergarteners and when he gets bored he gets touchy. Literally. One caress from Kol would pull all your attention, a risk you were not willing to take.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face but you remain strong, “why don’t you come get it, huh princess? Isn’t it lonely over there?”

He’s bored and trying to make you cave. His words hit hard in the pit of your stomach and your thighs clench. Your cheeks flame but you refuse to pull your eyes from the scuba date this bachelor has taken his date on. You can’t remember her name. She’s blonde and tall, but so are all the others girls on the show. You’re only a couple episodes in so you’re yet to really lock down the details. To be honest, you don’t ever really remember the names until the last couple episodes.

You can hear him start crunching again and you swear you see red for a second, “Kol, damnit, give me the popcorn. Now!”

All he does is laugh, pushing you over the edge. One second you're on the couch and the next you’re across the room, ripping the bowl from his loose grip. You don’t eat it, though, you just resist the urge to throw it across the room before setting it on the coffee table. His face is smug as you stand in front of him, simmering with something hot. It’s not rage though and that pisses you off. He won and he knows it.

He leans forward, pulling you by your hips towards him, a sultry smirk on his face, “come here.”

He scoops you onto his lap, pulling your mouth to his and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You sigh into his mouth, your legs dangling over the edge of the chair. Your hands find his hair and tug gently at the roots. You can feel him smile against your lips.

“It’s impossible to watch anything with you in the same room,” you mumble as his lips trace your neck, stifling a traitorous moan, “this is the third time I've attempted this episode.”

“I’m sorry,” no he’s not, “I just missed you.”

How he could miss you even slightly right now you have no idea. Elijah and Klaus have been gone for a few days, off hunting an enemy they refused to tell you about, leaving you to the youngest Miakelson’s wills for the entire weekend. To say you’ve left his sight for even a few minutes would be lying. Not that you didn’t soak up every second of time with him. It’s not everyday you get to be alone with one of them without feeling bad about ignoring the others. It’s a tricky situation.

His hands grip the edge of your tee, ready to pull it off, “you’ve had me to yourself for three days. An hour without touching me will not kill you, Kol.”

Even as you say it you cant help but attach you lips to his neck, leaving a few small kisses before sucking harshly at the base of his throat. His hand grips your hip and you know that if you were still a human it would have left bruises. The other wraps in your hair, pushing you against him a little bit harder.

“Ah, fuck, yes it will, princess.”

He starts lifting your shirt when the front door opens. Heavy footsteps land in the front hall and the smell of mud and something sharp hits your nose. You pull back from Kol slightly and he doesn’t protest, just as intent on listening.

“I, fuck,” you hear Klaus hiss from the near the door, causing your heartbeat to spike, “I’m not healing as fast as I should be.”

As fast as it had spiked, your heart stops, “it’s the wolfsbane, she knew it would slow the process.”

You look into Kol’s eyes, your blood running cold, a feeling you had forgotten existed. As soon as he nods you’re flying out of the den and into the front hall where you stop dead in your tracks. There you find Elijah. At least, you think it’s Elijah. It’s hard to tell who it is by the sheer amount of mud caked onto their body. Head to toe, mingled with something bright red. You already know what it is. Wherever there isn't mud on his body there’s blood, still wet in some places. You can smell the metallic tinge in the air and your heart breaks.

What’s worse is his face. His eyes look shattered. Like all the life has been drained from them. Your chest squeezes painfully at the sight. Your Elijah, your rock, ready to crumble. His hands shake at his sides. He just stands there, looking at you like you’re about to disappear. Klaus is no where to be seen.

“Y/n,” Elijah falls to his knees, the thud echoing through the silent house, “baby.”

His voice is small and, if it’s even possible, scared. In less than a second you’re in front of him, hugging him impossibly tight to your stomach. His arms wrap around your waist as he clings to you desperately. He’s trembling in your arms. You feel like someone’s hand is wrapped around your heart, crushing it. You move to sit down, pulling him against your chest.

“Eli, what happened honey?” Your hands bury themselves in his hair and you wish for his sake that it was under the same circumstances as it was with Kol.

“There were too many, Y/n, they must have had close to a hundred men,” he pulls you onto his knees, burying his face in your neck, “they weakened us before they attacked. I don’t know how. Magic, maybe. Sealed off the land so we couldn’t get out. They just kept coming, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even after their hearts were out they kept coming.”

For a man who has seen the very worst that war has had to offer, he speaks like he can’t comprehend the battle he was in. Like all the wars before this one, even combined, were nothing compared to what he just witnessed. His words make you cry for him. They make you angry like you’ve never been before. You clutch him tighter to you, placing a kiss to his matted hair. His relieved sigh brings some comfort but not enough to make this all better.

“I was so scared, baby,” he chokes on his words, his voice dripping with cold relief, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

You sob at his words, burying your face against his head. Somehow, beneath all the mud and blood, there's still a hint of Elijah. This faint pine scent that makes you crumble against him and hold on for dear life.

“They did something to Klaus,” your heart drops further in your stomach, “they injected him with something. I think it was wolfsbane but I don’t think that’s all. He’s not healing as fast as he normally does.”

You gasp at his words, “Elijah?”

He shifts, pulling back slightly. There are tracks on his cheeks, glimpses of skin, where he had been crying. You reach to wipe some of the dirt from his face, letting your own tears flow freely. He turns his head into your hand, closing his eyes for a moment and kissing your palm. For the first time since he got home you see him smile slightly.

“He needs you, baby,” always the noble one, your Elijah.

You look at him, reluctant to leave him like this, “Elijah I-”

His warm lips cut you off. You revel in his taste. It hasn’t changed and for that you’re eternally grateful. He kisses you slowly, his hands cradling your face carefully. You savour every second his lips are on yours, memorizing every line and curve. You could stay in this moment for a life time.

But Klaus needs you, too.

“Go, I'll see you soon,” he places one last kiss to your lips, smirking slightly, “besides, I really need a shower.”

You run your hand over his hair one last time, pulling out of his hold and making your way up the stairs to Klaus’ room. Any of the relief you had felt from Elijah disappears as fast as it had come. There are muddy boot prints leading to his door, his jacket, sopping and caked in grime, dropped on the floor. His flannel, less caked in mud and more so in blood, piled a few feet away from the jacket. It brings tears to your eyes once more. The part that makes your heart stop, though, is the scent. You can smell the blood before you're even halfway down the hall, hot and tangy.

A sharp bang sounds from inside his room, followed by a pained groan. You knock lightly on the door, unsure of whether or not to just walk in.

“Go away, Elijah,” he sounds angry but his voice lacks it’s usual passion.

“It’s not Elijah. It’s me, Klaus, it’s Y/n,” your voice is quiet but you know he can hear you.

He pauses for a moment and your chest constricts, wanting nothing but to hold him and make it all better.

Then you hear it, he’s crying, “Y/n?”

As soon as he says your name, sobs your name, you’re through the door. At the sight of him, as it was with Elijah, the wind is knocked from your lungs. He’s on his knees, a ghostly parallel to his brother, but he’s bleeding. He is coated in blood from head to toe. His arms got the worst of it, soaked to his elbows like a pair of crimson gloves. There are slices all the way down his torso, deep ones. His head rests on his hands, his shoulders shaking furiously from the cries wracking his body. Klaus has never been small but right now, curled on his bedroom floor, he looks undeniably smaller.

“Oh, baby,” your voice is a hoarse whisper and he looks up at you with tortured eyes, his mouth falling open.

You run to him, falling to your knees before him, letting him pull you against his chest. His skin is hot, working in overdrive to heal the cuts. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly. Your arms wrap around his chest, trying to avoid his wounds but it’s impossible. They’re everywhere.

He clutches you tightly, his body shaking uncontrollably, “it was mother, she turned these hybrids into something else. Dark magic or something. They were dead but they kept coming.”

When he pulls away slightly to glimpse at your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Up close you see them, bites. All over his arms and chest. Huge hunks of skin torn from parts of his body. Thankfully, they appear to be healing but not nearly fast enough for your liking. Your eyes well up again and you let the tears drop with his. He’s terrified. Your soldier is painfully afraid and it breaks your heart for the millionth time today.

“Klaus, what can I do, you need to tell me what to do sweetheart,” your hands cup his face, trying to wipe the droplets but they keep coming.

He sighs into your touch, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “just stay with me for a little while. Please, love? Don’t leave.”

Your heart aches for him thinking he even needs to ask, “of course I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just you and me, darling.”

He nods, standing on shakey legs. You follow suit, letting him pull you into a proper hug. Now that he’s on two legs, he towers over you, his face pushed into your hair, breathing deeply. After what feels like hours, he stops shaking. You just stand there, your arms tied around his waist, rubbing circles on his back. He still feels strong under your touch. He’s still your Klaus. Just a little bit worse from the wear.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You run your hand over his face before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to his attached bathroom. He follows without protest, moving his hands to your hips as you lead him towards the glassed in shower. You let him go for just a second while you start the shower which elicits a groan of protest. You turn the dial to a gloriously warm stream before going back to the muddy blonde. Your muddy blonde.

You reach up, drawing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He dips into your touch, pulling away to lean his head on your shoulder. You reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open with both hands. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder, just as you had earlier. You’re pushing him to keep touching you. It will ground him. You tug the zipper down before stepping away.

You give him a millimeter smile and revel in the way that, despite everything he’s been through, his eyes still dance over your figure when you pull the tee over your head. Your chest swells in pride that you can make him forget some of the pain and let it give way to love. You step out of your leggings next, letting them pool at your feet. His eyes roam every dip and curve of your body, igniting some of the fire that has been missing.

Standing in front of him, you’re left in nothing but your black bra and matching panties. He pushes his own jeans down his legs, leaving them as he walks back to you, twirling you so your back is to his chest. It’s working. His hands on your back make you shiver. His fingers trace your spine lightly, trailing up until they stop at your bra clasp. His lips land on the back of your neck, pushing your hair to the side as he nips lightly at the skin. His fingers skillfully undo your bra, pushing the straps down your arms until it falls, joining the growing pile of clothes at your feet.

His arms circle around you, pulling you flush against his hot chest, “so beautiful, love.”

You release the breath that you didn’t know you were holding at the sound of his voice. He sounds better, a little more Klaus like. A little more in control. His hands are flat on your stomach, dragging down you abdomen. His thumbs hook in your panties as he pulls them down your legs. They, too, join the pile at your feet. He grips your hips with strong hands, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, pulling your skin back into his mouth and biting down harder with blunt teeth.

You spin in his arms, drawing his face down to yours once more, “Come on, darling, water’s getting cold.

You press a quick kiss to his parted lips before scampering into the shower, a cheeky grin plastered on your face. He wastes no time in pushing the boxers down his legs and joining you under the warm water. He hisses quietly when the water hits the bites, closing his eyes. You pull him into your arms for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the pain. You can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.

When he opens his eyes again, you grab a washcloth that’s hanging idily to the side and a half empty bottle of soap. The label says ocean breeze and you can’t help but giggle. You lather the soap, which, for the record, actually smells pretty good, over the cloth before bringing one of his arms to your chest. That’s where you start, rubbing the material gently over his stained fingers, watching the stream of water pool deep red at your feet before swirling down the drain.

When you finish with his first arm, you move to the next. Over his bicep, down his forearm, caressing his wrist and palm like you had the other. He sighs when you place a kiss to his knuckles, gently putting his arm back by his side. Somewhere between his left arm and his right he had let his head fall back against the shower wall. Your heart soars to see him finally start to relax.

You move next to his chest, beginning at his collar bone. You run the cloth over the nastiest bite, one of the only ones still left healing. Klaus grips your waist when you do, clenching his jaw tightly.

“I know hun,” you coo to him, kissing his tensed face, “I need to do it, though. It’s almost over.”

He doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. He just wraps his arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss to the side of your head and letting you continue. You do your best to rub the dirt away quickly before leaving it be. You move down his chest, over his defined muscles, swirling the cloth over his skin lightly, drawing some quiet groans from his lips. They aren’t pained this time, however. They're something else. More familiar. Hotter.

You run the cloth down his toned stomach, savouring every crevice and dip, drowning in the praises that are flowing louder from his mouth. Heat grows rapidly in the pit of your stomach and before you know it you’re holding back your own sounds. Your head falls against his chest, his hand wrapped in your sopping hair, as you pass his belly button.

“Fuck,” he yanks your head up, crushing his mouth against yours deliciously.

The cloth falls from your hands, replaced with his shoulders which your grip furiously when he flips you around, pushing your back against the tiled wall. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking harshly and drawing the first moan from your lips. His fingers draw down your shoulders, tracing the curve of your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples, pulling a gasp from your mouth.

“Klaus,” you’re panting and he’s hardly touched you, “this is supposed to be about you.”

“Trust me, love, it is,” he says before placing his mouth over one of your breasts.

Your hand flies to hair, holding his head against you, the other clutching desperately at the shower wall behind you. His hands find your hips, holding you against the wall beautifully. He bites down lightly on your nipple before running his tongue over it soothingly. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, everywhere he touches you white hot. His blue eyes find yours through the water streaming around you, shining brilliantly for the first time since you found him.

His hand dips down, trailing fire down your stomach, until his fingers swipe over your clit once, then it’s lightening. His eyes are on you, watching every little movement you make. He does it again, drawing closer to your core, his thumb circling your most sensitive part. He stands up fully again, his lips finding your ear, tugging it between his teeth.

“God, Klaus,” you’re a mess at his touch, “please.”

He smirks at you, pausing his actions, his voice a husky whisper against your skin, “what should I do, love? Tell me. Shall I take my time or finish this now?”

He’s back. This is the Klaus that you’re used to. Fully self-aware and dominant. Strong. Above all though, he’s undeniably yours and yours alone.

“I- Klaus,” you tug his hair, pulling to try and regain a semblance of control, “I need you.”

He kisses your earlobe once more, his voice low and sultry, “as you wish, darling.”

* * * * *

What feels like hours later you emerge from the shower, dripping and sensitive but beyond happy, a pleased Klaus trailing close behind you. His hands refuse to leave your body as you lead him into his bedroom. There he opens his dresser, pulling out a black t-shirt that will most definitely swallow you and a pair of boxers and handing them to you before choosing a pair of grey sweatpants for himself. You pull his shirt over your still wet hair, revelling in his scent. You follow it with his boxers, fully embraced in all things Klaus.

“Now that is a sight that will never get old, love,” Klaus’ breath tickles the back of your neck as his arms wrap around you.

You lean into his touch, playing back the memories of his body tangled with yours under the shower once more.

“Back at you, Sweetheart,” and you mean it, he looks positively eddible in those sweatpants.

He growls lowly, sending another incessant wave of heat through your body, “love we need to leave this room before Elijah tears the door of it’s hinges. I’ve been listening to him and Kol pace for the better half of two hours.”

“Kol,” you say loud enough for him hear from anywhere in the house, which isn't very loud honestly, “can wait. He has had three days. He needs to learn to share.”

You swear you can hear him pouting from the kitchen as Klaus chuckles softly. Footsteps echo up the stairs, stopping right outside the door. You smile up at the blue-eyed blonde in your arms, knowing exactly who it is. He kisses your forehead, mouthing that he’ll meet you soon.

You open the door to face a tired but grinning Elijah, “Kol can wait but I'm just about done, baby.”

You can’t help but admire him, standing in the doorway in a simple hoodie and shorts. This is the side of him that only you get.

“Well, sir, how can I argue with that?”

“Uh huh,” he shakes his head at you, pulling you into his arms, making you erupt with giggles when he walks away, leading you back to the den where this all began.

You wave to Klaus, who winks back at you, mirth laced deep in his irises. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, finally at peace.

The night ends with the four of you cuddled on the largest couch in the den. Your back is against Elijah’s chest, his arms circled tight around you, not letting you go for anything. Klaus’ head is in your lap, his legs sprawled behind him on the remaining length of the couch. One of your hands is laced through his hair. His are clutching your legs. He’s fast asleep. Kol sits on the floor, your other hand resting around his shoulder, pulling him to lean back against your side. There's a fresh bowl of popcorn on his lap. He still isn’t sharing any of it. The television screen shows the image of a man and a woman scuba diving together. You couldn’t be happier to finally relax with all three of your Mikaelson men.

[kickingitwithkirk]

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter​​​​ #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~ 

I chant this mantra over and over to myself. 

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible. 

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well. 

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love. 

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over. 

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat. 

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do. 

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking. 

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok. 

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep. 

“Balls!” 

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water. 

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch. 

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night. 

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me. 

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me. 

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in. 

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching. 

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light. 

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear. 

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby. 

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound. 

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us. 

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx​​​​

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid​​​​

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 20- Rescue

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning for canon-typical violence, major character injury, and manga spoilers

Masterlist

No one had come rushing down the stairs after Dabi had alerted you a guest had arrived. Nor had Dabi felt inclined to go check who it was, much to your chagrin. “Hmm, seems our little guest is shy. Shall we call whoever they are down?” Dabi asks. You don’t dignify his question with a response and choose only to glare at him. He saunters up to you, placing a warm hand on your waist, but soon warm becomes hot and then hot becomes burning. Literally. You grit your teeth for as long as possible, not wanting to give the deranged man in front of you the satisfaction, but eventually the pain grows too intense and you can’t help but cry out.

Hawks flinches at the sound of you crying out. His heart wants him to rush in there but his head knows better. Hawks is a smart, calculating man. He knows that Dabi is intending to get a rise out of him. He knows that in a one-on-one fight between him and Dabi, the other man has the advantage. He knows that back up is on the way. The kind of back up that will make this a quick and easy job. He knows all this. His commission approved, highly tuned instincts know this. A small, unhelpful voice in the back of his head reminded him that the last time he chose his brain over his heart in regards to you it had cost him your affections. Is that why every single cell in his body is telling him to go in anyway? No. Hawks would wait. Because it was the rational and logical option. It was the option that was least likely to get both of you killed. He could wait the 10-15 minutes max it would take for one of the others to get there. But then you cried out again, and without him consciously deciding to, Hawks was speeding to your location as if his body was moving of its own accord.

The minute he had eyes on Dabi, Hawks lunged forward and slashed at the other man, aiming for the seams between his healthy and scarred skin. He manages a couple hits but Dabi had been anticipating the winged hero so he quickly moved away from you and out of the way. “Ohh I was hoping it’d be you that showed up!” Dabi laughs. “You should’ve left her out of this,” Hawks growls back. His instincts were on fire in a way they’d never been before. Not the refined instincts of the HPSC, drilled into his head since childhood. No these were more primal, more feral, than that. “We both know this isn’t a good match up for you Hawks. What could possibly have driven you to come charging in like this, hm?” Dabi taunts as he unleashes his blue flames in Hawks’ direction. Hawks rolled away as quickly as he could but still winces as he feels some of his feathers get caught in the blaze. “You gonna talk or we gonna fight?” Hawks snarks back before once again diving in to try and close the distance between he and his adversary.

Dabi had chosen his location well. The confined room severely restricted Hawks’ mobility, further disadvantaging him in a fight already not tipped in his favor. To compensate he sent several feathers out to increase the amount of areas Dabi would have to defend. If he had to take the villain down with a thousand tiny cuts instead of a dramatic final slash he would. But Dabi is smart too and so he picked and chose which feathers to ward off and which to let land. As much as Hawks was hanging in there he was literally burning through feathers at an alarming rate and no matter how much he tried to dodge, the tightness of the room pretty much guaranteed he’d take at least a little heat. This was bad. It was really bad. But he couldn’t stop now. So he pressed on and hoped back up would arrive soon.

Your heart had constricted painfully in your chest when you saw Hawks come flying down the stairs. You knew this was not a fight he would likely win. Not alone. Which is why you wasted no time taking advantage of Dabi’s focus being entirely on the winged hero instead of you. Your eyes turned to the chain and handcuffs confining you and you took a deep breath to steady your hands before getting to work. You carefully grab hold of the chain and start pressing it past the raw skin of your wrists to get inside one of the cuffs until you can loop it over your hand. Then, slowly but surely, you’re able to pull it through until you free the handcuffs from the ceiling chain. You immediately begin working the chain connecting the cuffs, trying to line up the links just right to get the tension you need to break them apart. “C’mon, c’mon,” you groan in frustration as your eyes dart between the cuffs and the ongoing fight.

It’s going as poorly as you knew it would. Granted, Hawks is certainly giving a valiant effort. Dabi is cut and bleeding in several places. A few of the staples on his arms and face are even detached. But there is no questioning who is leading. Hawks could barely fly in the confines of the room anyway but now even if he had the space he wouldn’t have the feathers to do so. He’s breathing heavy and there’s already large angry patches of red skin from the burns he’s received. He can’t afford to throw away any more feathers by sending them at Dabi from all angles so the most he can do is duck and weave Dabi’s flames as much as possible to try and get in close and get in an incapacitating hit. Then you see the determined look in his eye, despite the fact he’s fighting a losing battle, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. It’s like watching your mother’s last moments all over again. One lone hero against a force they clearly can’t beat and yet so, so determined to press on. At least back then the tv screen had put distance between you and the struggle. Now you were watching a hero fall in real time.

You watch in horror as Dabi finally gets the hit he was waiting for and Hawks goes careening to the side. You continue to fumble with the cuffs, the tension constantly falling away just before it can break the chain keeping you from helping Hawks. Dabi laughs and it’s a cruel sound as Hawks has no choice but to curl up and cover his head and vital organs from the raging blue flames. Tears are flowing down your face and your vision blurs as you watch Dabi slowly approach the fallen hero before kicking him in the stomach once, twice, three times. The links of the handcuffs catch and once again you begin to bend them in hopes this time the tension will finally break them apart. “What will be left of you if I clip your wings?” Dabi cackles as he reaches for what little is left of the appendages in question. But before he can do anything the cuffs finally snap. Your quirk comes roaring back to the surface and no sooner do you feel it swell within you are you directing every ounce of it at Dabi, your eyes glowing with the power of it. Dabi slams into the back wall and you surge forward to put yourself between him and Hawks, who looks on the verge of passing out. “Well, well, well. He wasn’t kidding when he said your quirk was strong. This makes things interesting,” Dabi smirks as he slowly gets back to his feet. “Really? Because I’m already bored of you,” you fire back before surging forward and wielding your quirk with a ferocity you never had before.

You’re not a trained hero. Technically what you’re doing is illegal, considering you don’t have any kind of hero’s license. None of that matters in this moment though. What Dabi had on you in experience, you compensated for with agility. It isn’t enough to get you a win but it can buy you time as you pray more help is on the way. Your ribs are aching, you’ve acquired several severe burns, and you’re starting to slow down but still you push and for the first time you think you understand why your mother made the choice she did. Suddenly a familiar voice echoes through the room. “DIE!” Bakugo screams as he comes crashing in, tackling Dabi in one explosive move. You don’t stop to see the result, your faith fully in your friend as you rush to where Hawks is lying unconscious on the ground. You wrap one of his arms around your shoulders and do your best to stand, half walking half dragging him out of the room. You don’t look back until you’ve managed to get him outside of the building but even still you can hear the sound of Dabi and Bakugo’s fight.

“Hawks? Hawks! C’mon I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up for me,” you plead as you lay him down on the concrete, kneeling beside him. You pat his face repeatedly until finally you get his eyes to flutter open. “Oh thank god! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Jesus Hawks!” you sigh, already cataloging his various injuries to report to emergency services. “Keigo.” “What?” “My real name. It’s Keigo. You... you can’t use it where someone might hear but you can use it.” His voice sounds so weak you could cry again. “Your eyes are glowing. ‘S beautiful,” he chuckles, reaching a hand up to cup your face before passing back out. “It’s gonna be ok Keigo,” you reply in a hushed voice, although you doubt he hears you. It’s not too long after that you hear the familiar rumble of Chargebolt’s motorcycle as he races to the location, Mirko arriving shortly thereafter. “They’re inside! Hawks needs urgent medical attention,” you tell them before they can ask. Mirko gives a curt nod and rushes into the building, following the sounds of the fight. Chargebolt hesitates as his eyes scan over your various injuries, the tear tracks still evident on your face from when you’d been crying earlier. “I’m fine, Denki. I promise. Just toss me your phone so I can call an ambulance and the cops. Dabi stole mine,” you assure him. He nods and does exactly that before racing in to help Mirko and Bakugo. As you dial the emergency services number your gaze returns to the number two hero. Almost all of his feathers have been burned away, leaving just the nubs of his wings and the immobile feathers at their base. Laying on his back the way he is, someone who didn’t know who he was wouldn’t be able to tell he’s supposed to have wings at all. Your heart aches as you can’t help but think how small he looks without them.

Author’s Note: I wanna give a big shout out to @dutchintheusa on tiktok who is the one I got the hack about escaping hand cuffs chained to the ceiling from that (y/n) uses here and how to escape handcuffs without a Bobby pin. He’s got a bunch of emergency/survival escape techniques as well as general advice to stay safe in a scary world. I would highly recommend checking him out. The fight is heavily inspired by the fight between Hawks and Dabi in the manga and the fact I have repeatedly wished I could insert myself into that room and protect Hawks (hence the spoiler tag). Also I listened to Tantrum by Ashnikko on repeat while writing this if you want an idea of the ~vibe~ of the fighting lmao.

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @main-ruthyruth

[waywardxwords]

Why’d It Have to be Snakes

Summary: After a tiring hunt, you return to your motel to find an unwelcomed addition. Your fear builds up enough anxiety that you don’t know what to do, so you quickly call Sam. He comes to your rescue, making a few jokes in the process.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,723

Warnings: Fluff!

Your eyelids felt heavy as you pulled open your motel door. You were unbelievably exhausted. You blindly reached for the light switch on the wall and blinked against the poorly lit room after they flicked on. You dropped your duffel next to the dresser and glanced around the familiar layout of the typical motels you shacked up in every night.

Except there was an addition to this room—an addition that made your stomach drop and your eyes widen in complete terror.

You swallowed the lump that had formed against your throat and began to back away until your back bumped against the door. If someone had asked you what your worst nightmare would be, this situation would very well make the top ten.

Your hand reached for your back pocket, your eyes never faltering from the creature before you. His number was the last one you had called. You swiftly slid the iPhone from your jeans and swiped the screen to hurriedly redial his number. You placed the phone to your ear and prayed he hadn’t jumped in the shower yet.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” He had just seen you five minutes before, so it was a completely valid question.

“I’m uh, fine…but could you come to my room for a sec?” Your voice shook a bit as you spoke and you swallowed again as you tried to contain yourself. You watched the thing move slowly, still seemingly unaware of your presence. Or maybe it knew you were there but could sense that you were insanely terrified of it to get any closer.

“Uh, sure,” he seemed confused. “I’ll be right there.”

You both hung up without another word. Your eyes danced over the figure, watching for any kind of sudden movement. Your body jumped and breath hitched at the sound of a knock on your door. Sam Winchester, your knight in shining armor (or, rather, his familiar brown Carhartt jacket).

You moved your eyes away for just a moment to open the door. His hazel eyes searched your face for any sign of danger. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened when he noticed how scared you were.

“What is it?” He reached for your arm and gently moved you aside so he could pass into the room.

You gulped and merely waited for him to see it, seemingly lost for words.

A gentle laugh erupted from the back of his throat when he spotted it. He turned to you with a look on his face that told you he was enjoying this way too much. “A snake? Really?”

You huffed and folded your arms over your chest. “Sammy, come on,” you whined. You wanted to clasp your hand over your mouth as soon as the sound came out. You were never a whiner, but when it came to snakes, all bets were apparently off.

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in a surrendering motion. Sam glanced around the room for something to capture the slithering reptile, which was currently coiled up in the corner of the room. “How did a snake get in here, anyway?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t stop to ask it. Just please get rid of it,” the anxiety was making your skin crawl. You felt bad for the way you were speaking to him, especially since he had come to help you. But you literally couldn’t help yourself. Your fear gave you word vomit and unfortunately, you were currently puking all over your hero.

Sam didn’t seem to mind—he was too preoccupied with scooping the snake into the empty wastebasket from the bathroom. The alarmed snake slithered around the basket but seemed to be secured.

You moved clear to the other side of the bed as Sam headed for the door of the room, still shaking his head with a chuckle. “Relax, Indiana Jones. You’re safe.”

He left the motel room door open as he stepped outside with the bucket. Your heart thudded against your chest as you sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to normalize your breathing; it was useless. You found yourself looking around the room just in case this snake had a mate. Did snakes travel in pairs? You weren’t willing to take the risk.

“Alright, you’re all set,” Sam sighed as he reappeared in the doorway with a now empty wastebasket.

“Thanks, Sam,” you finally managed to mutter as you stood up, now clearly embarrassed. Your cheeks flushed as you dropped your head to look at the carpet. A curtain of your hair fell into your peripheral vision.

“Hey,” you noticed his boots come into your line of view and felt his large hands on your shoulders. One hand dipped under your chin to lift your gaze to meet his. “You’re safe, it’s gone.” You could tell he was trying to fight the grin that kept playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes and pulled out of his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he finally busted at the seams with laughter he was trying to contain. “It’s just…snakes?”

“Yes, for the tenth time now, snakes,” you rolled your eyes and plopped back down on the edge of the bed.

“I just can’t get over it,” he seemed thoroughly amused. “I’ve seen you machete a vamp and stab a shifter. But yet you can’t handle a snake?”

“Two can play that game, Bozo,” you stood from your spot on the bed and marched towards him, determined. “Don’t make me show you the clown video on YouTube again.” Sam’s features instantly straightened. Your mouth cracked into a smile.

“Clowns kill people,” Sam’s jaw tensed, but you could still sense the playful nature between the two of you.

“So do snakes, last time I checked,” you raised your eyebrows in debate.

“Touché,” his lips curved into a small smile. You tried to get the image of the snake out of your mind but yet still felt like your skin was crawling all over; the image of the slithering reptile made you squirm involuntarily. “Just remember what Dean always tells me…”

Before he could even finish, you cut him off. “I know, I know. If it bleeds, you can kill it,” you muttered. “Ugh, I just really hate those damn things,” you shuddered, your arms folded across your chest. “I know it’s lame, trust me—I know. I grew up with two brothers, remember? I got made fun of plenty for my irrational fear.”

Sam rolled his eyes and moved to stand in front of you. “It’s not that irrational,” he reasoned when he noticed you really were worked up over this whole thing. “I mean, snakes are a pretty common fear.” He smirked as his oversized palm gently grazed your cheek; his calloused thumb ran just underneath your eye. You closed your eyes at the touch and felt yourself instantly relax from the overwhelming anxiety you had felt just moments before.

“Yeah, well, I guess lots of people are afraid of clowns, too,” your voice was calm and sympathetic to his equally as debilitating fear.

Sam smiled at your small offering of compassion and bent his head to move his lips delicately over yours. Your hand reached up and grasped onto his hand which cupped your cheek.

“Stay?” Your voice was subtle and almost distant. You finally opened your eyes and peered into his hazel orbs that you loved so much. Sam’s gaze danced between your eyes and his jaw tightened in hesitation.

“If I stay, Dean will have us figured out,” he explained carefully. You moved just your eyes to stare at the multicolored carpet below your feet and Sam instantly regretted what he had said. “Hey, how about I lay with you for a little while? Keep the snakes away?” He laughed softly and smiled when your eyes finally gleamed back at him.

“I vote yes,” you leaned up on your tiptoes to reach his lips once more. While you and Sam were still learning exactly what this was, you enjoyed every second you spent in his presence. A drunken night out a bar while Dean was preoccupied with a random female friend led you and Sam to sporadic hook-ups, to subtle moments on hunts where your bodies would discretely brush up against one another so Dean wouldn’t notice, to sober nights cuddling after a long hunt hours after Dean had gone to bed. Neither of you knew what exactly any of this meant, but right now that didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was that you were enjoying each other’s company.

Sam lovingly reached under the shoulders of your leather jacket and pulled the garment until it was off of your arms and tossed on the sitting chair in the corner of the room. He lifted your black tank top and tossed it on top of the jacket. You eyed his plaid button-up and raised your eyebrows.

Sam laughed and with a quick roll of his eyes, he removed the jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to give it to you. “I’m not letting you keep this one. You keep taking my clothes and I’m not going to have anything to wear at all.”

“I mean, I don’t really see what the problem is…” you winked as you pulled the sleeves over your arms and buttoned the shirt up so your cleavage was barely visible. You pulled off your pants and clambered onto the bed.

“Oh yeah, Dean would love that one,” Sam laughed as he climbed after you in just his jeans. The two of you crawled under the floral comforter and below the sheets.

Sam propped up a pillow against the headboard so he could lean against it, ensuring that he wouldn’t fall asleep and owe Dean an awkward explanation in the morning. He grabbed the remote and switched on the TV as you curled up to his side, your face against his bare chest and your arm tucked across his middle. He scooted you closer to him by wrapping his arm around your side and holding you to him. He absent-mindedly played with your hair as he watched the late-night TV program.

“Night, Bozo,” you mumbled sleepily as your eyelids drifted closed in the glow of the television.

Sam grinned as he leaned down to place a kiss on top of your head. “Night, Indy.”

[btsqualityy]

We’ll Be Okay

Jimin x Reader

Genre: Major Angst, fluff, established couple 

Warnings: miscarriage, description of a medical procedure (it’s kind of vague though), grieving parents

“That’s not a plus sign, is it?”

“What the hell else would it be, a cross on a pregnancy test?”

“Wahh,” Jimin gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes as he clutched both of the pregnancy tests in his hand. “You’re pregnant again jagi.”

“Let me see,” you demanded, reaching out and plucking both tests out of his hand. When you held them up, there was a clear ‘plus’ sign on the face of both tests. “Wow.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Jimin asked, his smile slightly dropping from your reaction. “We both agreed to try for another baby.”

“I know we did, but it’s literally only been two months,” you chuckled in disbelief. A loud cry sounded from Sydney’s nursery, so you set both tests down on the bathroom counter and walked out of the bathroom, with Jimin following close behind. 

“Jagi, we’re both still young and have never had any fertility issues so there’s no reason why it wouldn’t have worked,” Jimin pointed out, watching as you walked over to Sydney’s crib and picked her up, cradling her against your chest. 

“I know, but I’m still shocked,” you shrugged. “I mean, Syd just turned one three months ago and it’ll be a lot to handle three kids under five.”

“So what? Do you not want it?” Jimin wondered and you immediately shook your head.

“Of course I want it, I’m just nervous,” you admitted. Sydney then lifted her head from your neck, reaching out towards her father. 

“And that’s ok,” he assured you as he took Sydney from you, lifting her up and setting her on his hip. “But you’re not gonna be alone Y/N-ah, I’ll be right here with you the entire time.”

“I know,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you watched Sydney snuggle up to him. “Seeing you with them is what makes me want more babies with you, because you’re amazing.”

“Ditto jagi,” he smiled. “And hey, look at it this way: at least you got to find out like a normal person and not by fainting this time.”

“That’s definitely a highlight of this pregnancy,” you laughed, making Jimin do the same. 

“I got you, ok?” He whispered and you nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

............................

“So, I see we’re expecting another little Park,” your doctor smiled as she walked into the examination room where you and Jimin were waiting. 

“Yep,” you nodded with a grin, the nervousness having waned and been replaced with excitement over the month and some change that had passed since the positive pregnancy tests and your first doctor’s appointment. 

“Alright, let’s see what we have here then,” your doctor said, motioning for you to lay back. You did so, making sure to pull up the hem of your shirt a little so that your lower abdomen was showing. Your doctor grabbed the ultrasound gel, squirting a healthy amount onto your skin before grabbing the ultrasound wand and setting it on top. Jimin reached down and grabbed onto your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as the both of you watched the screen for any sign of your small little baby. However, about two minutes passed without a word from your doctor. 

“How long ago did you take that pregnancy test Y/N?” Your doctor wondered.

“About a month ago,” you replied. “Plus another week.”

“And how many days late was your period before that?”

“Three weeks,” you answered with a raised brow. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to make sure that I have this right,” she mumbled as she focused intently on the screen. “So, you’d be eight, almost nine weeks pregnant then.” 

“That sounds about right,” Jimin confirmed and your doctor sighed.

“The baby’s heartbeat isn’t exactly as strong as I’d expect it to be at this point in the pregnancy,” she admitted. 

“And what does that mean?” You asked. 

“I’m sorry you two, but I don’t think this pregnancy is going to make it to full-term,” your doctor said apologetically. “Of course, I’d like to run some more tests on you just to be sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you miscarried within the next few days.”

“But...what?” You chuckled in disbelief. “But I’ve been feeling great this time around. I haven’t even fainted like I did with my past two pregnancies.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, and Jimin, but sometimes these things just happen and there’s no real rhyme or reason to it,” your doctor told you. “I’d like to run those tests on you though so we can be sure, so I’ll go set that up now and give you two some time alone.” Your doctor bowed lightly before quickly excusing herself and walking out of the room and as soon as the door shut behind her, you sat up as tears began to stream down your face.

“Jimin-ssi,” you whimpered, turning to look at him and he just wrapped his arms around you, hugging your body tight to his. 

“I know,” he replied, feeling his eyes starting to become cloudy with tears as well. 

“I’ve been feeling fine, I swear!” You sobbed against his chest. “I would’ve said something if I weren’t!”

“I know baby, I know you would’ve,” Jimin soothed you. “We’ll be okay, though. I promise.”

............................

After getting more tests done, your doctor found that your HCG levels, which is a hormone produced by the placenta, were extremely low and this only confirmed your worst fears. You requested another ultrasound just to be sure, and your doctor found that the baby’s heartbeat was still just as slow as it had been earlier in the day, and had even slowed down more. 

At that point, you had to start to think about how you were supposed to mentally prepare yourself to miscarry your child, but you weren’t even able to leave the doctor’s office before the pain in your abdomen started up and you knew that it was the beginning of what would surely be one of the most painful experiences in your life. 

To be on the safe side, your doctor opted to admit you into the hospital rather than have you go home, so that she’d be able to keep an eye on you and your physical condition. Once you began to bleed, you and Jimin talked to each other and decided that it would best for you to have a dilation and curettage, or a D&C. This was so that you could be sure that the baby passed completely, and that there’d be no issues with any future pregnancies.

Once you had the procedure done and had gotten settled in your hospital room, Jimin crawled into the hospital bed with you and cuddled up to you as you both cried into each other’s arms. It was hands down the worst day of your life thus far; such a happy day turning into a nightmare in the blink of an eye. 

............................

“Mommy?” You heard a soft voice whisper and you opened your eyes to see Noah standing next to your side of the bed. “Are you ok?”

“Not really,” you replied honestly, doing your best to give him a small smile in order to make not him worry completely but you knew that he’d be able to see through it. 

“I thought so,” he said. “You’ve been in bed a lot, and you don’t usually do that like how uncle Yoongi does.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed, sitting up and scooting back so that your back was pressed against the headboard. “I’ve been really sad though, and so has Daddy.”

“Why? What happened?” Noah wondered and you sighed, the pain of the miscarriage still extremely fresh since it had only been about a week, but you figured that you could tell Noah in a way that was age appropriate. 

“Come here,” you said, holding your arms open and watching as he climbed up onto the bed, immediately snuggling into your side. “Well, Mommy was pregnant.”

“I’m gonna be a big brother again?” Noah gasped and you shook your head.

“Noah, the baby died and went to Heaven,” you explained and the smile immediately let Noah’s face, being replaced by a pout.

“I didn’t even get to see them first!” He exclaimed and you almost wanted to chuckle at how outraged he was.

“We didn’t get to see them either baby,” you told him. 

“Well, if the baby went to Heaven, then you should be happy right?” Noah questioned. “Because Heaven is a place that’s good.”

“I’m sad because the baby was still a baby, and they should’ve been down here with us, growing in my tummy for a while and then being born,” you explained to him. “Just like you and Sydney did.”

“But since it’s in Heaven, the baby can look over us, like the ancestors do,” Noah replied. “You know, like Daddy said.”

“Yeah, but I still miss them,” you sniffled, reaching up and wiping at your eyes before the tears that had been welling up could spill over.

“Can I cuddle you Mommy?” Noah asked and you nodded immediately.

“I’d love that Noey,” you smiled softly, watching as Noah wrapped his arms around you tighter and threw one of his legs over yours, the same way that Jimin does when he cuddles you.

............................

Three weeks later, you had been making an effort to try and get back to normal, or as close to it as you could manage. You still hadn’t gone back to work, but you weren’t staying in bed all day anymore and you had actually started doing things around the house and playing with the kids again, so you figured that it was a start. 

As for you and Jimin, the two of you hadn’t really been talking to each other much anymore these days. It wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, it was just that things felt a little tense between the two of you now, since neither of you had never been good at dealing with negative emotions. 

One morning, after dropping Noah off at school, you came back home and were greeted with the sounds of glass breaking. Pacing into the kitchen, you found it completely empty, which only further confused you. Taking a quick glance around, you saw that the back sliding door was opened and as you walked closer to it, the sound of glass breaking got louder so you knew that it was coming from there.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked in surprise, making Jimin stop and turn towards the back porch, the sledgehammer in his hands falling to the ground. There were several large stacks of glass plates surrounding him, as well as several glass cups, bowls, and pitchers. 

“I’m breaking glass,” he shrugged, reaching down with a gloved hand, picking up a plate and chucking it against a nearby tree. You watched as it shattered once it came into contact with the bark, and you looked back at Jimin with a raised brow.

“I can see that, but why?” You pressed, walking away from the sliding door and down the steps of the back porch to walk over to him, maintaining a few feet of distance between the two of you since he was still throwing glass.

“I’m angry,” he huffed, picking up the sledgehammer again and swinging it over his shoulder, hitting a glass water pitcher. 

“About?”

“The baby,” he grit out. “I’m the one who even brought up having another baby, and then we fucking lost it. Makes me feel like a terrible husband.”

“Jimin, it wasn’t your fault,” you tried to convince him but he just scoffed loudly.

“If I hadn’t opened my big mouth, like I always fucking do, you wouldn’t have been pregnant in the first place,” he snapped, picking up a glass cup and throwing that against the tree as well. “So I’m doing this to release some anger because if I don’t, I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

“Jimin, stop,” you called out.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Jimin, please,” you said more firmly, but he just ignored you as he threw the sledgehammer down again and began to pick up plates in both hands, throwing them at the tree with more force than he had been before. You waited until his hands were completely empty again before moving towards him, quickly setting both of your hands on his cheeks, which made him stop moving.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” you pleaded and his eyes softened considerably. “There wasn’t anything that either of us could’ve done.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jimin chuckled ruefully. “Knowing that our child died and that we couldn’t do anything to prevent...it fucking hurts.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. “But it happened and we have to figure out how to keep living our lives. No reason for us to lose one another in addition to the baby.”

“You’re right,” he huffed, reaching up and wiping his face free of the tears streaks that had stained his skin. “You wanna go soak in a bath, drink wine, and cry until Syd wakes up from her morning nap?”

“Yes please,” you nodded, reaching down and intertwining your fingers with his. “We’re gonna be okay eventually.”

“We will,” Jimin agreed, leaning forward and kissing you softly before turning around and leading you into the house. 

............................

“Alright Jagi, do you wanna say a few words?” Jimin asked as he straightened up from sticking the small granite headstone in the ground of your backyard. As a way to get more closure from loosing the baby, you and Jimin decided to have a little memorial service, with just the four of you present. The headstone was very simple, grey in color with an engraving that simply read “Baby Park. 2020-2020. Always Love and Always Missed.”. 

“Sure,” you nodded, handing Sydney off to him before stepping forward so that you were closer to the headstone. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t stay here with us. I still somewhat feel like I failed you little one, but I also know that there’s nothing I could’ve done to keep you here with us. Regardless though, I’m always going to miss you and I love you so much.”

“I feel the same way as your Mommy,” Jimin spoke up. “I’ll always wonder who you would’ve looked like this time, me or Mommy. I’ll also wonder if you would’ve loved cuddles like your brother and sister, or if you would’ve loved music and dancing like they do. It sucks that I’ll always just have to wonder, but I love you very much and I’ll do my best to be patient and wait to ask you these questions years from now, when I see you again.”

“Mommy?” Noah called, reaching up and patting your thigh, and you looked down at him.

“Yeah Noey?”

“Can I say something too?” He asked and you nodded. “Hi Baby. It sucks that we didn’t get to meet you but we all love you a lot, even Sydney. Make sure to look over us with the ancestors, ok? Love you!”

“Very well said, mini me,” Jimin smiled. “Alright, who’s hungry?”

“Me!” Noah shouted and Sydney babbled loudly in her father’s arms as she waved her arms around.

“Ok, come on,” Jimin said, turning around and walking with the kids towards the back porch. When he noticed that you weren’t following him, he turned around and saw you still standing in front of the headstone. 

“You coming Jagi?” He called out and you glanced over your shoulder, giving him a small smile. 

“Yeah, just give me a sec,” you nodded and he did the same before turning around and walking into the house. You then knelt down, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the surface of the headstone. 

“You’ll be okay without us,” you smiled softly, glancing down at your charm bracelet that sat on your wrist. There was one charm that had the zodiac symbol for Libra which represented Jimin, one that had the symbol for Virgo which was for Noah, and one that had the symbol for Scorpio, which was for Sydney. However, your newest charm held the zodiac symbol for Sagittarius, which is when your third child was supposed to have been born. 

“We’ll be okay too,” you stated firmly, giving one last look to the headstone before standing up straight and walking towards the back porch, where you could hear the voices of your husband, son, and daughter flowing from the kitchen. Despite the shitty circumstances, you still considered yourself to be pretty damn lucky. 

[chrisevansszn]

THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE 🔺️🔺️🔺️ PT 6

Word Count 1.3k

“Noah text me and I thought it was you. I replied that I want the baby to have brown hair and blue eyes. Noah has black hair and brown eyes. I fucked up bad. He’s so pissed. He told me to get home now.”

“Fuck. Shit. Do you want me to come with you?”

“Hell no. Are you crazy? I’m a dead woman.”

“Don’t talk like that. If he does anything to you. Call me. I will drop everything for you.”

You give Chris you address and head out the door to face Noah. This is probably the last day of your marriage.

You grab your coat and purse and head out the door. You look back to see Chris standing there very concerned with his hands on his hips.

You take a deep breath and push the elevator button to go down. The car ride was silent, all could hear was your tires hitting the road. You turned off your radio. Your anxiety was through the roof.

You pull up at home and just sat in the car. This was about to be a shit show. You decided to leave your purse in in the car just in case it gets too crazy. You walk in the door. Noah is standing in the kitchen waiting on you. You both sit and stare at each other for a few minutes.

It’s time to come clean.

“Noah…I’ve been having an affair.”

Silence

“I already knew that.”

You looked confused.

“You think I am stupid. You never stay the night at any friend’s house. You always find a way home whether someone drops you off or you take an Uber. You’ve been leaving out at night not returning home. You fucking disabled the ring doorbell! How stupid!”

You swallow.

“Who are fucking Y/N? Enlighten me. Is he your baby’s father? We’ve been together for over a decade and not even one close call.” Noah’s is beginning to yell.

“I don’t know who the baby’s father is. It’s between you and the other man.”, You are literally whispering right now from being so embarrassed.

“And that is?” Noah sits up a little more and tilts his head. Takes a drink from his whiskey glass.

“A coworker.”

“A coworker? You get to see this fucker EVERY SINGLE DAY?” He’s basically yelling right now.

“You’ve been working so much, and I felt neglected! You don’t have time for me anymore. The getaway to Florida was the first time in a long time that you even paid any attention to me. The sex is boring, and I don’t love you anymore Noah!"

The next thing you knew Noah threw his drinking glass at your but barely missed. It hit the wall behind you. You looked up to see Noah charging at you and you threw your hands up. He slammed you in the nearest wall. He had you pinned.

“I have been saving lives while you have been here being a fucking whore.”

You hear your living room door burst open and look over to see Chris. Oh God no! The look in Chris’ eyes showed that he was ready to kill!

“Chris!” You hollered.

Noah lets you go.

“This is the mother fucking you’ve been screwing?”

“You are fucking right. I’ve been dicking down your wife bitch! Oh, and she’s having my baby too.”

Lord Jesus that made your pussy throb.

Noah charges towards Chris and Chris hits him with a quick right hook. Noah flys back and Chris runs to Noah and clocks him again.

“Chris please.” You pull Chris’ arm to drag him away from Noah. Noah is touching his mouth and it’s bleeding.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on a woman again!” Chris yells. “Punk bitch!”

“Chris leave please. Now…go!”

“I’m not leaving without you, are you crazy?”

“I will wait outside until you come out.” Chris walks out and stands by his car.

You turn to Noah.

“This marriage is over. I am in love with Chris. I am going to be with him.”

“Get your fucking shit and I want you out. Out of this house and out of my life.”

“I am going to go pack some clothes. I will get the rest of my shit when you leave out again for work, so we don’t have to see each other.”

You walk upstairs and grab a suitcase. You pack everything that is important, clothes, shoes, products. Everyday stuff. You take a deep breath and walk downstairs and out the door starting your new life. Chris is still outside. You walk up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s go home baby.” He speaks.

You both make it to Chris’ apartment and your phone begins to ring, it’s your mother. Noah probably told her what just happened.

“Hi Mom.”

“Y/N, what is going on between you and Noah? You left him for another man? And he man got you pregnant? What in the world.”

“Mom, calm down and listen.”

You tell your mother everything. Yes, you had an affair, you are pregnant, and you are in love with another man. You know this mess is going to take some time to calm down, but your heart wants Chris. You stay on the phone for about another 30 mins but don’t introduce Chris because now is not the time.

“Hi Chris.”

You go and sit next to him on the couch.

“Hi there.”

“How are you feeling?”

“My adrenaline is going right now with everything.”

You smile.

“I understand. How is your hand?”

“It’s fine. It hurts a little that about it.”

You get up to go get ice for his hand and come back to watch tv and cuddle. You order take out for dinner and head to bed. You never thought in a million years that you would be in this kind of situation. You just have to take it a day at a time.

The next day you get in contact with a divorce lawyer. You want this process over with as soon as possible. You continue for the next few weeks living with Chris. Everything is going great, and no one at work has a clue until….

Noah creates a Facebook post going on a rant about the event that have taken place. You knew the divorce paper would be served today but you didn’t think he would take it to social media! Your phone begins to blow up with people trying to let you know what is going on and asking questions.

Your bestie Carrie sends you the screen shot.

“Look at this bullshit Chris!”

You show Chris the post.

“Oh my God he is bonkers. What is that going to accomplish?”

“I don’t know. He leaves for Arizona to go work this weekend. I am going to get the rest of my shit and try to get the house on the market."

You are trying to stay as calm as possible to not upset the baby. You and Chris decide to work from home for the rest of the week to get a game plan going for work. You both know people will talk but there are bigger fish to fry now.

That Saturday, you and Chris drive over to your home with Noah. You notice his car in the driveway. That’s weird he should be gone by now. You roll your eyes and walk to the door. You turn the knob, and the door is not locked. Weird.

You walk in and holler that you are there and just picking up some more stuff.

Nothing.

You walk around. You see Noah’s keys and wallet on the living room table. OK…

You walk upstairs to the bedroom, and then to the bathroom because the door was opened and lights are on. You see Noah’s lifeless body in the tub.

“CHRISSSSS!” You scream out while running out the house. He meets you at the door.

Noah is dead!

@chris-butt 💙

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅳ Vol.6 Laito VS Yuma [TRACK 4]

Original title: 相応しいのはどちらか

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS Ⅳ Vol.6 Laito VS Yuma [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke & Tomohisa Suzuki

Translator’s note: The long-awaited double blood sucking scene~ This one wasn’t as intense as some of the other VERSUS CDs I’ve translated though. They’ve definitely toned down the characters a lot compared to the first VERSUS series. xD Personally I really liked the moral conflict between Laito & Yuma in terms of treasuring one’s own life though. I hope they touch upon that in the final track as well.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: Who is Suitable?

*Rattle*

Laito: So the science classroom is up next, huh? If we’re given the same assignment as before, I’ll make you feel even better, okay~?

Yuma: Oi. Keep yer distance from that disgustin’ freak. Who knows what he’ll do to ya.

Laito: That’s so mean. Iーー

The door closes.

Laito: ...Oh? Seems like the door closed by itself again.

*Bzt*

Laito: ...Hm? Heeh, seems like there’s a device on top of the teacher’s desk this time. The one which projects a message onto the screen.

Yuma: Che...The next task, huh?

Laito: I suppose so. ...Well then, let’s look what we’ve got...’Assignment 3: The Vampire most deserving of her must suck the girl’s blood’ Heeh~? Suitable, huh?

Yuma: Argh...What kind of bullshit is this!? I bet he gave us that task knowin’ very well the two of us have been sparrin’!

Laito: Nfu~ But it’s a wonderful assignment, don’t you think? We can use this to decide who actually deserves her. Let’s have the game master decide which one of us is more suitable from an outsider’s point of view. 

Yuma: Ya...You’re still havin’ fun even when that Kino dude is blatantly makin’ a joke out of us!?

Laito: Why are you getting so upset? We can’t get out without completing the task anyway, so if you don’t enjoy it, you’re just missing out, no? Ah. I suppose you’re lacking confidence? You’re scared of not being chosen, aren’t you? 

Yuma: Ya bastard...Don’t underestimate me! If ya wanna lose to me that badly, I’ll take my victory.

Laito: Nfu~ It’s settled then. ...Well then, Bitch-chan, let us decide who is the better partner for you amongst us two.

Yuma: Come on, this way!

You step back.

Yuma: Oi, why ya tryin’ to run?

Laito: Hm...~? Ah! I get it! You want to tease us and have us fight over you, don’t you? You really are such a greedy and lewd girl~ ...However~

Laito steps closer.

Laito: You can’t just back away. I caught you this easily, see? Come on, take a seat on top of the desk. ...Heavy-hoh.

*Thud*

Yuma: Oi. Why are ya makin’ her sit on the desk?

Laito: If the three of us are gonna enjoy ourselves all together, it’d be easier like this, right? Ah! I found the perfect thing laying around! Hm, hm, hm~

He picks up a cable and ties your hands together.

Laito: Like this, you can no longer use your hands~ 

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: What do you think? You like being tied up like this as well, don’t you? I tied it a little on the tighter side, so it should gradually become more painful~

Yuma: Che...Freak.

Laito: Going about this the normal route is no fun, don’t you think? If you’re like that, she’ll grow tired of you~

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Ah, you shouldn’t try and move. I was only trying to show you that you can’t move, yet you go out of your way to make it even harder on yourself. ...Heh~ You really are so obscene.

Laito bites you.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Yuma: Che...I’ll make ya forget ‘bout his fangs!

*Rustle*

Yuma: I’ll satisfy ya even without usin’ any props. I’ll start by suckin’ from your shoulder.

Yuma bites you as well.

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Haah...Ya like it when it hurts, don’t ya? I’ll bite ya a lil’ stronger...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Ah~ What lovely noises~ Personally, I very much welcome this turn of events. Hearing you cry out in agony as we both such your blood simultaneously...It’s making my head spin...Haah...Ah. Did the cable scrape your skin? Your wrist is bleeding. Guess I have no other choice but to untie you.

Laito unties the cable.

Laito: Fufu~ And then like this...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Mmh...

*Smooch*

Laito: ...Fufu~ Did that sting in the wound? Does it hurt? ...Or perhaps, does it feel so good, it could become addictive?

Yuma: Oi, ignore that guy. Ya should only feel me.

Laito: Oh no~ Don’t do something so cold~ Mmh...Nn...

*Rustle*

Yuma: ...Oi!

Laito: ...Did I bite you a little too hard? My bad~ However, you’re at fault for getting distracted. Look my way.

He turns your face.

Laito: Nfu~ ...Exactly. Those fear-filled eyes are the best. The expression you make when you’re overwhelmed by fear, realizing you should try and run as soon as possible, yet you can’t help but feel good...Show me more of it...Ah-aah~ You’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes, you’ve become so very shameless.

Yuma: Che...Don’t play right into his hands. Come on, look me into the eyes and tell me where ya want my fangs. I’ll suck from yer favorite spot.

You remain quiet.

Yuma: If ya can’t come up with anythin’, I’ll suck from where I think ya’d like it. Right. ...How ‘bout right here?

*Rustle*

Yuma bites you again.

*Sluuuuurp*

Yuma: Hah...Damn...I’ve gotten dizzy ‘gain...Mmh...Nn...

Laito: Come on, focus on me as well. Haahn...Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: ...Haah~ You’ve been exposed this much, I can’t get enough of it...

Laito looks over at Yuma.

Laito: Seems like I’m not the only one enjoying it though~

Yuma: ...Haah, haah...

Laito: Say, you said that I’m obsessed with her, but can’t you say that about yourself as well? 

Yuma: Heh...So what?

Laito: Heeh...You’re actually admitting it?

Yuma: Bein’ with ya today made me remember whether I liked it or not. I can’t leave her in yer care. As if I’d let her get dragged down to hell by some suicidal freak. There’s people in this world who can’t survive no matter how badly they want to live, ya know? Do ya realize that!?

Laito: ...Could you please not force your personal ‘morals’ onto me? Enjoy the moment. That is my everything. She is having fun too, so what’s the problem? ...See? Take a look at her melted expression.

Yuma: Don’t try and change the subject!

Laito: ...Oh shut up. I don’t exactly want you to understand me. If you don’t, can you just leave me alone? Ah-ah~ And here I thought I’d be able to have even more fun with an extra person added into the mix. I’ve lost interested.

Yuma: Che...You’re always so damn whimsical...Don’t ya have a thing like that? Somethin’ ya can’t give up no matter what?

*THUD*

Laito: I don’t.

Yuma: Ya bastard...

You nearly collapse.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Ah! Watch out! ...Oi!

Laito: Ah-aah~ I guess we had a little too much blood.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Oi!? Ya ‘kay!?

Laito: Nfu~ ...Are you in any position to say that after scarfing down on her blood till literally seconds ago?

Yuma: Haah!?

You try and stop them again.

Yuma: Ah...You’ve got a point. This isn’t the time to be quarrelin’...Che...My bad. 

Laito: Well, it wouldn’t be fun if we push her any further and she faints on us so I’ll call it a day as well~ However, even though we both sucked her blood, it’s kind of strange nothing has changed? Doesn’t seem like the door will open either.

*BZT*

Yuma: ...! Oi, take a look at that.

Laito: ...! The words are changing...’Incorrect. Too bad. Neither of you are suitable for her. The Vampire deserving of Eve...is me!?’

Yuma: The fuck!?

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Eagles and Angels

After Alex's disappearance, you couldn't continue to work at your current police department in Chicago, so you ask to be transferred to another city dept. You wound up in Los Angeles. You try to forget Mahone with all the strength you have left as you go through your days off and on the field. One day you're invited to a charity party for some colleagues who have departed early and while you're there, you see something you would've never expected.

You checked your uniform one last time before entering the building.

A sea of black caps and golden trims moved around tables and chairs, making small talk and offering their condolences. Men and women coming from any angle of California, at least two from each department peppering the state.

Most of the officers were standing in small groups, holding glasses of sparkling wine snatched from the buffet table. You, on the other hand, approached the front of the crowd slipping through your colleagues and stopped in front of the photos put on display, a black ribbon in the top-right corner.

Five good men and two women, now dead in the name of serving and protecting.

You watched intently, feeling your throat closing when a little, evil thought slithered into your mind.

"His photo would never end up there."

One hand raised quickly to brush at your eyes, the tears threatening to make themselves known once again.

Alex disappeared for months now and no one had any idea where he went… the one that knew didn’t want to tell you even a smidgen of information on his last mission.

You asked and pleaded with Sullins for at least a week. You even cornered Wheeler and threatened violence on him and his small virility, but with no avail. You even tried to enter his now locked office, but once you managed to sneak your way in, you discovered it had been cleaned up of everything.

You swore to god you would search for him, but without a starter point, it all seemed useless.

You changed departments, you changed home and friends, but that didn't change the bleeding heart still in your chest.

Slowly, you grabbed your phone and opened it, watching the little photo you took of Alex: it was during one of your dinners together, where he finally drank a little and loosened up. His face had been rosy all evening and he laughed at every little thing.

The photo you snapped in secret was of him smiling, his head turned to one side, almost bashful. His true self, hidden underneath the cold façade he wore while working.

Your thumb caressed the glass of the screen, using that virtual picture to send a prayer for him like all those people did for the mourned.

The concept hit you like concrete in your gut. Alex was dead and you would never see him again.

Forgotten by his colleagues, hidden away like a stain.

The hope you buried deep into your soul finally gave its last breath and you closed the phone with a soft clack, the sound a metaphor of nailing that coffin shut.

"This was the worst idea…" you thought to yourself, your feet quickly turning around towards the exit of the hall, but as you passed by some officer talking to a lady, you heard a voice you recognized.

That tone had been etched into your brain for how many times you and Alex poured on the video he made, searching for clues, mistakes or just studying the guy.

Your eyes, shining with held-back tears, shot up towards the origin of the sound and there he was.

Michael Scofield, donning a uniform like he owned the place.

Shock and anger filled you, as you saw his hand reach underneath a table and grab something small and black.

He looked around briefly, and when Scofield saw your eyes glued on him, he stopped for a second.

Your glossy eyes betrayed the hatred you felt for him and the escapee surely noticed, because his body tensed while fast-walking towards a little hallway, hidden away from the rest of the party members.

Anger turned into rage as you walked right behind him, slithering among your other colleagues to reach his disappearing shoulders. A whirlwind of thoughts twirled in your mind, feeling the same hunting dog that was Mahone.

Why was he there? What was that little thing he grabbed? How brazen did he have to be to show his face there, wearing a police uniform?? What has he done to Alex??

After all he did, the lives he ruined...after he took Alex away from you.

You moved into the empty corridor and saw Scofield turning a sharp right into a little side-garden, probably searching for an escape route.

That was your chance, away from anyone, to finally grab revenge and make it yours.

As soon as both of you were around the corner of the hallway, you ran up to him and grabbed his forearm, slamming his chest against a wall on your left. “Where is he?!” you hissed into his ear, your elbow digging into his spine. “Where is Mahone??”

Scofield turned his head and looked at you with his cold gaze, but you could almost see a hint of surprise, a panic wash on his face before he could get a hold of himself. "I know he was after you. I swear to God–!"

Scofield immediately reacted, fighting your hold; what he lacked in training he had with height difference and desperation.

A punch managed to hit your cheekbone and your cap flew off your head, but you didn’t stop.

There were far too many questions to pry the answers from his mouth.

Like a snake attacking its prey you launched on him again. Your foot rose to hit his knee straight on, a move Alex taught you to make anyone buckle, but Scofield dodged that, his clear eyes passing from you to a form behind your shoulder.

Suddenly a big forearm wrapped around your throat and you were lifted a few inches off the ground by the tall figure that was Burrows.

You should've thought about that, the brothers rarely acted alone… you were too fixated on that forbidden knowledge to remember. "Lincoln let's go, I have the device..!" Scofield heaved, massaging his jaw you hit in your fury.

Meanwhile, Burrows was crushing your windpipe, but you didn't stop fighting: months of sadness, frustrations and pure heartache were pouring into your limbs like a river.

Your legs kicked and your back arched, hands trying to find a place to grab onto the escapee. When your fingers clawed at the fold of Burrows' elbow, you used his own body like a stabilizer and curled your legs up before pushing them down again with all the strength you had, trying to unbalance the burly man.

Burrows folded forward just enough for your feet to land on the floor again and immediately you pushed him back and against the wall, trying to distract him just enough to free yourself.

Just a little more, just a little harder before you would pass out from the lack of oxygen.

With a strangled growl you tried again, this time you drove your heel into the top of his foot and finally you felt his hold soften enough for you to free yourself. You turned and grabbed his still hunched shoulders, shoving your knee directly into his guts, again and again.

For a moment it seemed to slow him down, hearing him grunt in pain as you tried to down him, but all stopped all of a sudden.

"What are you two doing there?? We need to go!" you heard a hushed tone from the hallway and your body froze for a second, your reddened eyes shifting towards the voice you heard.

Alex…?

Burrows, seeing you distracted, sucker-punched the lights out of you, making you lose your footing.

The shock of the hit made you see black and stars, the taste of blood filling your mouth.

The punch probably managed to break one tooth, too.

You wanted to reply in kind to Burrows' hits, but again he grabbed you, twisting your arms behind your back and pushing your chest against the wall like you did with his brother.

No kick or wriggle could free you now, tired and still out of this world for the previous direct.

"Lincoln there's no time for this, they're all going out–" Mahone appeared from the corridor with a light jog and your barely focusing eyes met him for the first time in months.

Alex was as beautiful as you remembered, if only a little thinner, a little rougher around the edges. His eyes held a haunting light in the very back, but the bewildered look on his face made your heart squeeze.

Under that matter-of-factly behaviour, he seemed sad. Oh so sad, especially now that his lips mouthed your name in pure confusion.

While he stopped at archway, you started to fight more Burrows’ hold, feeling his hand search something on you. “I need to cuff her or she’ll blow our coverー” "Let her go," Mahone commanded hastily when he found his voice again, starting to approach you and Burrows “What…?” "Lincoln! Let her go!" He added more forcefully, almost panicked.

The moment Burrows' hands disappeared from your body, you shoved him away, only one thing mattering for you in that instant.

You closed the couple of feet between you and Alex with a leap and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, exhaling a desperate sob into his neck.

At the same time, Alex moved his hands to hug you back into a warm, solid hold.

The dam almost broke when you felt his warm palm against the nape. "Alex…! Oh...m-my God, Alex…!" You heaved with desperate relief, clawing at the dark uniform he was wearing. At that sound, his whole frame crumbled and his embrace tightened, quivering. “Y/n...I’m so sorry love, Iー” "Where did you go??” you spoke again with a dense tone full of worry. Your hands detached from his shoulders only to cup his face, so you could see directly in those glass-like eyes you always loved the most. “ I thought you were dead…! No one told me where you were…! Sullins, Wheeler, even Felicia didn’t give me a fucking clue!" Your voice, at first sad, started to mount in emotions, remembering the time you literally begged Lang to tell you Mahone’s last known location.

Alex watched you with his face distorting into a mix of happiness and guilt, his own hands cradling your nape with sad sweetness. “It’s...Y/n, it’s complicated...” he whispered, feeling Michael and Lincoln’s eyes on his back, now that the brothers reunited. “Just...come with me? Please? We…” he turned his head slightly, as if asking permission to take you with him to Michael, who was now watching him intently. Lincoln seemed weary of you, while he massaged his offended abs. “It’s dangerous to be heー”

Your lips crashed on his in a desperate kiss when Alex shifted his gaze back to you, losing your breath in the effusion almost completely.

Both brothers raised their brows as they watched a vaguely shy Mahone blink into the sweet attack, before slowly replying, softening your frantic gesture into something warmer, tender.

Alex’s breath became cold on your skin and his fingers gently brushed away a few tears from your cheeks.

The kiss would’ve lasted longer, but Michael’s voice came up between them like a crowbar. “We have to go.”

Your attention rounded suddenly towards Scofield, watching him in anger. “Go where??” you growled, turning to Alex for a brief moment as if searching for an answer, only to return your eyes on Michael’s cold ones. “He’s not going anywhere, Scofield, do you hear me?? What do you have to make him obey like a good lil’ doggie?? Did you blackmail him?? Threatened his son??” At each barked question you took a step forward, towards the brothers. “I swear if you lay a finger on that boy you’ll beg to be killed!”

At the same time Mahone grabbed your arm to stop you and Lincoln put himself between his brother and your irate gaze. “Aw as if you would scare me, big guy!” you yanked at Alex’s hand, flexing the shoulders backwards while your chest puffed out. Your hands itched for some confrontation, the dark imagery in your mind giving fuel to your rage. “C’mon I’ll finish the job with you and then make your spindly lil’ brother spit out that brilliant brain of his!-” “Y/N! Stop it, immediately!” Alex’s voice came serious and sharp behind you, the tone you heard so many times from your Chief in Command.

You stopped fighting Mahone’s hold and your lips fell silent, but you still watched the brothers as if you could kill them with your eyes. “Y/n I’ll explain everything.” Alex then pulled you back and held you around the shoulders in fear you would jump the brothers again. “But Michael is right, we have to go-” “yeah, but leave the pipsqueak behind, would you?” Lincoln harrumphed, you and him exchanging lethal gazes.

“Is she trustworthy?” the younger brother asked instead and you squinted at him, clawing at Mahone’s dark shirt in a protective (and rather possessive) stance.

Alex sighed and nodded. “Yes. I can vouch for her...It’s been...a terrible month for everyone,” he quickly said to Scofield and the man seemed to understand.

He then turned to his brother and jerked his head towards the hallway, a silent sign that Burrows barely noticed.

Exiting the building became almost too easy and when the four of you reached a black, big car, you looked up to Alex. His face was serious and his eyes were wandering around on high alert.

His whole body was in full tension near yours, as you walked elbow to elbow, and for a moment replayed his words in your mind. “It’s too dangerous.”

Why was it dangerous? He was with the Bureau, a valued agent, one of the best! All those policemen would be honored to be in his presence…!

“Get on…” he whispered to you as he opened the car door, watching around with his jaw tensing.

The journey through the city was one of the heaviest you ever witnessed: the brothers were on the front seats, MeatHead driving and WonderBoy looking out of the windows, scanning the sidewalks.

You and Mahone took the back seats and you felt the silence push on you two, while Alex had one hand fisted on his leg and the other rested between your shoulder blades.

The stylish part of the city slowly morphed into factories and rusted iron, eaten away by the salt of the sea.

You saw some warehouses on your way to the group’s destination and finally Burrows parked haphazardly in front of a seemingly abandoned building. “We’ll stay out here for a second,” Alex called out to the brothers and while Lincoln didn’t even turn, Michael gave the federal a nod, watching you with calculating eyes, before disappearing inside that particular warehouse.

Only you and Alex remained on the quay, the man taking a deep breath before stretching his fingers towards you, softly touching your forearm. “Come…” he breathed, his previous hard voice now barely a wisp.

Mahone walked up to the cement barriers that functioned as guardrails along the edge of the port, the only thing protecting people from falling into the sea water. He turned and sat down on top of one of the Jersey bumps, completely deflated. “Alex...what happened…?” you prompted him, inching closer to him.

You didn’t have your fire inside anymore, anger now fizzled into worried sadness. You never saw him like that, completely defeated. A shadow barely holding onto its physical form. “It’s a long story,” he spoke without looking into your eyes. Instead, he moved one hand and slowly reached for one of yours, gently weaving them together. “I will understand if you will want to...keep your distance, after, but please listen… I really need someone to listen…”

And you did.

You didn’t speak while his voice started to pour out into a long, convoluted string. You absorbed everything, from the starting hunt, to Panama, through Sona and then out.

Your chest tightened as he recounted how Sona was, the killings and brutality, the blood shed and the constant fear of end up shanked. Instinctively you brought his hand to your chest as you heard his defeat against his personal demons, in the shape of white dust and a needle.

You listened about the Company, who and why were they against the brothers, the conspiracy behind Burrows’ death sentence and the courage his brother had to free him. All those words lit up a bunch of lightbulbs in your head, especially when Mahone explained that he worked for the Company twice already, doing double-crossing the second time he did. How they threatened whoever he loved. His son, Pam. You. “That’s why…” you whispered. “That's why you refused to even sleep...If I knew back then I could-” “you didn’t have to know. It was best that way...I couldn’t risk losing you too…” Alex sighed while you lowered your intertwined hands down, completely shocked and still processing all the infodump he just did.

But there was something he didn’t speak about and you could feel it, a thorn prickling in the background. Bleeding one droplet at the time. “There’s something you’re not telling me…” you muttered, inching closer to him. “Alex…Who…? Felicia? Pam?” you asked, seeing his empty eyes fixating on a far, non-existing point on the cement.

The lack of replies didn’t give you enough to work with, but you noticed something, a sorrow dug deep in him that no normal death would create.

If there was something Alex truly cared about was...

Oh no…

“...Cam?” you whispered, as the realization hit you.

You saw his kid from time to time and when your relationship deepened, you even brought the boy to school using your police car, earning you the ‘Police Mom’ title.

He knew about you and his dad, of course, and even Pam seemed satisfied that Alex found someone else to be happy with.

“Three...four days ago…” came the reply. He tried to remain collected, but you could hear the lump in his throat tighten.

You left his hand only to raise your arms and approach him, enveloping his head and his shoulders into a firm embrace. Your palm caressed his nape and you could feel his entire body collapse against you, as if the last trace of self-control disappeared the moment you hugged him.

His hands clawed at your back when he searched for your body like a castaway in the middle of a maelstrom, squeezing you tightly against himself while his face drowned in your presence.

He trembled without a sound, but you knew he was crying.

You rode with him the waves of agony, keeping steady against the hot tears you felt dampening your dark uniform. “Oh God I’m so sorry darling..” you whispered in his hair, kissing the top of his head. “I’m here now...I’m here and I’m not leaving...ok? I’ll never leave…” your hands caressed the back of his neck, his shoulder and what could you reach of his back, trying to smooth away the sadness he was so firmly enveloped into.

The embrace lasted minutes, where Mahone slowly relaxed more and more into it, until he finally took a deep breath and started to lean away, looking up to you.

His eyes were red and still wet, the icy blue of his eyes still amazingly beautiful even in sorrow. “We’ll get to the end of it, together...ok?” you whispered, holding a smile on your face, hoping to rub some of that optimism onto him. He only nodded, his throat bobbing with a swallow before he would stretch his neck and search for a kiss. You couldn’t deprive a desperate man some love, so you gladfully leaned down and met his lips with your own, a slow and soft press that asked for peace, even for an instant.

Was like that, a statue devoted to love and hardship, that you two were caught by an oblivious Sucre, just arrived from his part of the retrieval mission.

He slinked away with a shameful ‘sorry!’ after he realized who was there on the quay and while you furrowed your eyebrows, Mahone only sighed a little laugh, hiding himself again in your chest. “Thank you...for being here...for...being,” he muttered with a sweet, shy tone.

You hugged him some more, your time now to feel a lump in your throat.